FRANK 
MERRIWELL'S 
FRIEND 


THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

IN  MEMORY  OF 
EDWIN  CORLE 

PRESENTED  BY 
JEAN  CORLE 


Ill  a  moment  the  unconscious  young  athlete  would  be  direcdy  beneath  the 
revengeful  scoundrel  on  the  ridge. 

Page  48. 


A    STORY    FOR    BOYS 


BY 


BURT  L  STANDISH 

AUTHOR   OF 

"  The  Merriwell  Stories" 


PHILADELPHIA 

DAVID   McKAY,   PUBLISHER 
604-8  SOUTH  WASHINGTON  SQUARE 


Copyright,  1901 
By  STREET  &  SMITH 

Frank  MerriweB's  False  Friend 


AU  rights  reserved,  including  that  of  translation  into  fortifa  languages, 
including  the  Scandinavian. 


FRANK  MERRIWELL'S  FALSE 
FRIEND. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ANXIETY     AT     YALE. 

Yale  was  in  perplexity  and  distress. 

Where  was  Merriwell? 

That  question  created  all  the  trouble.  He  had  ob- 
tained permission  to  leave  a  few  days  on  important 
business,  but  the  "few  days"  had  lengthened  into  many 
and  still  he  remained  away. 

He  was  needed  at  Yale,  for  he  had  been  chosen 
captain  of  the  baseball-team,  and  the  men  were  in 
training  for  the  Easter  trip  to  the  South.  His  absence 
and  the  uncertainty  of  his  return  seemed  to  have  a 
most  baleful  influence  upon  them,  for  they  failed  to 
turn  out  with  enthusiasm  for  work  in  the  cage,  and 
they  plainly  lacked  the  needed  spirit  that  year  after 
year  has  led  Yale  gladiators  to  stand  ready  to  sacrifice 
anything  and  everything,  but  honor,  for  the  glory  of 
Old  Eli. 

The  coaches  were  in  despair,  for  never  before  had 
they  handled  such  indifferent  material.  It  seemed  im- 


2035372 


6  Anxiety  at  Yale. 

possible  to  find  the  usual  number  of  new  men  who 
took  an  interest  in  baseball,  and  were  willing  to  work 
with  vim  and  enthusiasm. 

The  outlook  was  discouraging.  Experienced  men 
shook  their  heads  and  looked  blue.  Was  this  a  relapse 
after  their  great  victory  over  Harvard  on  the  gridiron 
the  previous  fall? 

Among  all  the  new  men  in  the  squad  only  one 
showed  up  enough  to  create  general  comment,  and  that 
one  was  the  black-haired  freshman,  Dade  Morgan. 

Having  resolved  to  try  for  a  place  on  the  nine,  it 
was  not  remarkable  that  Morgan  should  attract  atten- 
tion, for  at  everything  he  had  attempted  since  enter- 
ing college  he  had  made  himself  a  marked  man.  He 
was  a  fellow  who  went  at  any  task  with  a  determina- 
tion and  intensity  that  would  have  advanced  a  poorer 
subject.  Being  an  athlete,  supple,  strong,  quick,  sure- 
eyed,  and  confident,  it  was  not  singular  that  he  made 
rapid  advancement.  It  would  have  been  far  more 
singular  if  he  had  not. 

Morgan  had  played  baseball  before  coming  to  col- 
lege. In  fact,  he  had  once  captained  a  very  clever 
amateur  team  at  a  summer  resort.  He  was  one  of 
those  surprisingly  versatile  fellows  who  could  fill  any 
position.  It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  much  of  the 
success  of  a  ball-team  depends  on  putting  the  players 
into  the  positions  for  which  they  are  best  adapted,  and 
that  it  is  not  often  a  good  first-baseman  does  equally 
well  on  second  or  third,  while  a  remarkable  outfielder 
may  be  utterly  worthless  in  the  diamond,  or  vice  versa. 


Anxiety  at  Yale.  •} 

But  Bade  could  handle  grounders,  catch  flies,  cover  a 
base,  play  behind  the  bat,  even  pitch  with  a  certain 
amount  of  skill  that  did  not  seem  lessened  in  any  posi- 
tion. 

But  it  was  his  ambition  to  pitch,  and  for  that  he 
began  to  train  as  soon  as  the  squad  got  to  work. 

There  were  a  number  of  new  candidates  for  the 
position,  but  the  coaches  confessed  to  themselves  that 
Morgan  was  the  only  highly  promising  man  in  the  lot. 

Frank  Merriwell,  however,  had  been  depended  on 
as  the  mainstay  in  the  pitching  department  of  the 
team. 

Of  course,  Bart  Hodge  would  fill  his  old  position  be- 
hind the  bat,  and  there  were  one  or  two  promising  men 
who  might  serve  as  substitutes  in  case  any  accident 
happened  to  him. 

But  Bart  did  not  go  about  the  work  with  his  usual 
spirit.  In  fact,  it  was  hard  to  get  him  genuinely  in- 
terested, and,  somehow,  he  seemed  sad  and  restless, 
appearing  at  times  to  be  brooding  over  something.  To 
the  surprise  of  everybody  he  did  not  say  much  about 
Merry's  absence,  save  that  he  had  not  heard  from 
Frank  and  did  not  know  why  he  was  remaining  away 
so  long. 

The  anxiety  and  restlessness  caused  by  Frank's  un- 
accountable failure  to  return  spread  to  the  professors, 
who  began  to  inquire  about  him  day  after  day. 

Merriwell's  enemies  had  been  keeping  pretty  quiet, 
for  they  realized  that  it  would  not  be  best  to  say  too 


8  Anxiety  at  Yale. 

much  at  first,  as  he  was  the  pride  of  the  college,  and 
slurs  against  him  would  not  be  tolerated. 

Honest  men  who  had  once  been  his  enemies  were 
silent  now,  or  his  pronounced  friends.  In  fact,  it 
seemed  that  no  open  enemies  were  to  be  found. 

But  the  petty  spite  and  meanness  of  the  Chickering 
set  was  simply  held  in  restraint.  Although  they  were 
not  particularly  brilliant,  they  knew  enough  to  realize 
that  it  would  not  be  healthy  to  express  themselves  too 
freely  in  public. 

As  time  went  on  and  it  began  to  seem  that  Merri- 
well  might  not  return  to  college,  these  creatures  grew 
bolder.  At  first  they  dared  not  speak  outright,  but 
they  hinted  and  slurred  and  sneered.  Without  say- 
ing why  at  first,  they  suggested  that  there  had  been 
"a  very  good  reason"  for  Merriwell's  sudden  depar- 
ture, and  that  it  was  not  at  all  likely  he  would  ever 
again  be  seen  at  Yale. 

Thus  it  came  about  that  one  sunny  afternoon  these 
fellows  were  gathered  at  the  fence  along  with  other 
students,  who  were  discussing  the  baseball  situation. 

"I  tell  you  what,"  said  Lib  Benson,  "I'm  afraid 
we're  going  to  get  it  in  the  neck  all  round  this  spring. 
It's  a  dead  sure  thing  that  the  men  are  not  taking  hold 
with  the  usual  spirit,  and  I  have  it  straight  that  the 
coaches  are  disgusted  with  the  material  for  a  nine." 

"Oh,  that's  always  the  way,"  declared  Irving  Nash. 
"It's  the  same  old  cry  that's  heard  every  year." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  put  in  Gene  Skelding,  who  had 
blossomed  out  with  a  handsome  new  pink  shirt,  of 


Anxiety  at  Yale.  9 

which  he  was  very  proud.  "Yale  seldom  has  much  to 
say,  though  the  newspapers  may  be  full  of  rot  about 
the  nine,  or  the  crew,  or  something  or  other.  This 
year  it  is  different.  We've  tried  to  keep  the  truth 
from  getting  into  the  papers,  but  it's  out  just  the 
same." 

"What  maketh  me  thick,"  lisped  Lew  Veazie,  "ith 
thith  thilly  talk  about  all  the  twoble  coming  fwom  the 
abthence  of  that  fellow  Fwank  Merriwell.  It  ith  vewy 
tirethome !" 

"That's  so,  chummie,"  agreed  Ollie  Lord,  standing 
as  high  as  possible  on  the  high  heels  of  his  polished 
shoes.  "As  if  he  could  make  any  difference  if  he  were 
here!" 

"He's  usually  made  a  difference  in  the  past,"  said 
Nash  instantly.  "He  has  a  way  of  stirring  things  up." 

"That's  right,"  agreed  Lib  Benson.  "I  wonder 
where  he  can  be  and  what  is  keeping  him  away.  He'll 
fail  in  his  exams  sure  as  fate  if  he  stays  away  much 
longer.  Even  now  I'm  afraid  he'll  have  to  grind 
so  hard  that  he  won't  have  much  time  for  baseball, 
or  anything  else." 

"Talking  about  Merriwell?"  grunted  B>rowning, 
loafing  up  and  leaning  lazily  against  the  fence.  "Don't 
worry  about  his  failing.  You  never  knew  him  to  fail 
in  anything." 

"Not  even  in  waking  you  up  and  getting  you  onto 
the  eleven  last  fall,"  laughed  Hock  Mason.  "Why 
aren't  you  in  the  baseball  squad,  Browning?  You 
played  with  Merri well's  ball-team  last  summer." 


io  Anxiety  at  Yale. 

"And  got  enough  of  it,  too.  It's  altogether  too 
much  like  work,  Old  South  Carolina;  that's  why  I'm 
not  sweating  in  the  cage  every  day." 

"If  Merriwell  were  to  show  up  now,  he'd  be  pretty 
sure  to  drag  you  out  in  a  hurry." 

"Never!  There  are  plenty  of  others.  I  refuse  to 
be  sacrificed  again  for  the  public  good." 

"What  is  this  rumor  I've  been  hearing  lately?" 
broke  in  Julian  Ives,  thrusting  his  cap  back  and  pat- 
ting down  his  pet  bang.  "It  can't  be  true  that  Merri- 
well got  out  because  he  knew  he  must  fail  at  exams 
this  spring.  He  has  wasted  his  time,  it  is  said,  in 
athletics  and  such  folly,  till  now  he  is  face  to  face  with 
failure  in  his  studies,  and  he  can't  stand  that.  Rather 
than  to  be  set  back  a  year  he  has  taken  himself  out  of 
the  way,  and  he'll  not  be  seen  here  again." 

"And  I  brand  that  as  a  malicious  lie!"  rang  out  a 
clear  voice. 

It  was  Bart  Hodge,  who  had  approached  in  time  to 
hear  Ives'  words.  There  was  a  black  look  of  anger 
on  Bart's  face,  and  his  flashing  eyes  glared  with  scorn 
and  contempt  at  Julian. 

"There  is  a  very  good  reason  for  Merriwell's  ab- 
sence," declared  Hodge.  "Starbright  saw  him  in  New 
York  and  said  he  would  surely  be  here  in  a  day  or 
two." 

"But  Starbright  did  not  tell  what  was  keeping  him 
away,  you  know,"  gently  said  Rupert  Chickering.  "I 
have  nothing  against  Merriwell,  and  I  sincerely  hope 


Anxiety  at  Yale.  n 

the  rumors  about  him  are  not  true,  but  I  have  begun  to 
entertain  fears." 

"Bah!"  exclaimed  Hodge,  giving  Rupert  a  look  of 
intense  scorn.  "Why  do  you  still  play  the  hypocrite, 
Chickering?  Everybody  knows  you.  Everybody 
knows  you  hate  Merriwell  and  would  do  anything  in 
your  power  to  injure  him." 

Chickering  held  up  his  hands,  his  face  expressing 
denial,  resentment,  and  martyrlike  anguish. 

"You  are  very  unjust!"  he  exclaimed.  "But  as  you 
are  a  fellow  of  violent  passions,  I  will  forgive  you 
and  try  to  forget  your  unjust  judgment  of  me.  Still,  I 
advise  you  to  remember  the  Biblical  injunction,  'Judge 
not  that  ye  be  not  judged.' ' 

"Oh,  you  make  me  sick!"  was  Hodge's  rather  un- 
original retort.  "You  are  the  most  sickening  thing  of 
your  whole  sickening  crowd.  You  disguise  your 
hatred  under  pretense  of  generosity,  even  of  friendli- 
ness— that  is,  you  try  to  disguise  it.  But  every  one 
is  onto  you,  and  it  is  well  known  that  you  are  trying 
to  stab  a  man  in  the  back  when  you  say  a  pretendedly 
kind  thing  about  him.  That  brands  you  as  a  snake  in 
the  grass,  Chickering !  This  is  plain  talk,  but  I've  been 
waiting  for  just  this  opportunity  to  make  it,  and  if  you 
or  any  of  your  friends  wish  to  pick  it  up  now  or  any 
other  time,  you  all  know  where  to  find  me." 

Rupert  heaved  a  deep  sigh. 

"It  is  hard  to  be  thus  misjudged,"  he  said  sadly; 
"but  still  I  must  forgive  you.  I  don't  suppose  I  can 


12  Anxiety  at  Yale. 

blame  you,  for  you  must  be  worried  into  a  dreadful 
state  of  mind  over  Merriwell's  failure." 

"Merriwell  never  made  a  failure  in  his  life,  and  he 
will  not  begin." 

"Plainly,"  said  Chickering,  with  resignation,  "it  is 
useless  for  me  to  tell  what  I  have  heard  and  know. 
I  would  not  tell  it,  anyhow,  but  it  must  come  out  in 
time.  I  am  sorry  for  you,  Hodge,  as  I  know  you 
think  a  great  deal  of  Merriwell;  but  even  you  would 
not  like  to  see  him  flunk  in  his  last  year." 

"More  of  your  dirty  insinuations,  put  in  your  own 
nasty  way!"  flashed  Bart. 

Ives  and  Skelding  had  their  heads  together  and  were 
glaring  at  Bart,  while  they  mumbled  to  each  other  in 
low  tones.  Now  Gene  took  a  step  forward  and 
grasped  Chickering's  arm,  hoarsely  exclaiming: 

"Don't  talk  to  the  fellow,  Rupert!  He  knows  you 
or  your  friends  do  not  care  to  fight  him  here,  and  that's 
why  he  is  making  all  this  blow.  He's  doing  it  for  a 
bluff  and  to  obtain  notoriety." 

The  fire  that  came  into  Bart's  eyes  made  evert 
Skelding  start  back  a  bit.  But  Hodge  held  himself 
in  check  enough  so  that  his  voice  did  not  get  higher 
than  an  ordinary  tone.  However,  it  seemed  so  intense 
that  every  hearer  was  thrilled,  and  not  a  word  was 
missed  by  those  on  the  outskirts  of  the  gathering. 

"You,  Skelding,  are  not  a  hypocrite,  but  you  are  a 
malicious  liar,  and  you  know  it !  I  have  said  that  I'll 
fight  anywhere,  and  that  stands  good  for  you.  I  never 
make  bluffs  that  I  cannot  back  up.  You  do.  But  now 


Anxiety  at  Yale.  i> 

and  here  I  give  you  fair  warning  to  keep  your  mouth 
shut  about  Merriwell.  If  you  make  any  further  talk 
about  him,  I  promise  to  meet  you  where  we  cannot  be 
interrupted  and  give  you  the  worst  thrashing  you  ever 
had  in  your  life!" 

Gene  laughed  and  snapped  his  fingers. 

"If  I  have  anything  I  wish  to  say  you  may  be  sure 
I  shall  say  it,  for  all  of  your  threat,"  he  declared;  "but 
I  do  not  consider  the  fellow  worth  discussing." 

"It's  a  good  thing  for  you  that  you  do  not!" 

Skelding  and  Ives  took  to  mumbling  to  each  other 
again,  and  Jim  Hooker  asked  Bart: 

"Then  you  are  dead  certain  Merriwell  is  coming 
back?  Nothing  has  happened  to  cause  him  to  fail  to 
return?" 

"I  know  he'll  be  here,"  was  the  declaration,  "else 
he  would  have  communicated  with  his  friends.  Some- 
thing has  happened  to  keep  him  away  longer  than  he 
intended  to  stay,  but  he'll  show  up  before  long,  and 
I'll  bet  my  life  on  it." 

"There  he  is !"  shrieked  a  voice.  "Look,  fellows — » 
he's  coming  now!  Hooray!" 


CHAPTER  II. 

ON     THE     CAMPUS. 

The  excitement  of  the  moment  was  intense,  for 
Merriwell  was  crossing  the  campus  toward  the  fence, 
coming  from  Vanderbilt  Hall. 

Alone  and  unheralded,  he  had  arrived.  It  had  been 
his  fortune  to -reach  his  room  without  attracting  at- 
tention, and  now  he  had  come  forth  to  look  for  his 
friends  and  acquaintances. 

When  he  was  seen  there  was  commotion  at  the  fence. 
The  gathering  gave  a  sudden  surge,  a  shout,  a  dissolv- 
ing, and  then  the  men  went  tearing  toward  him,  shout- 
ing. 

And  Bruce  Browning — big,  lazy,  useless  Bruce — 
was  at  their  head ! 

"Hooray !"  he  roared. 

Then  he  caught  Frank  in  his  arms  and  gave  him  a 
regular  bear-hug,  while  the  crowd  gathered  and 
pressed  around. 

"Oh,  Betsey!"  shouted  the  giant  senior,  as  he  held 
Frank  off  and  looked  at  him;  "but  you  may  bet  your 
sweet  life  we  are  glad  to  see  you,  old  man!" 

They  grasped  his  hands  and  shook  them,  coming 
forward  one  after  another,  even  if  they  had  to  fight 
to  reach  him.  They  laughed  and  shouted  and  rejoiced. 

"He's  here!"  they  told  each  other,  gleefully,  and 


On  the  Campus.  15, 

when  they  could  not  shake  hands  with  Frank  they 
shook  hands  with  each  other.  "Now  we're  all  right !" 
they  declared.  "Just  see  if  he  does  not  stir  things 
up!" 

From  somewhere  Jack  Ready  bobbed  up  and 
wormed  his  way  into  the  crowd  till  he  reached  Frank, 
loudly  commanding  all  to  stand  back  and  make  room 
for  him. 

"I  salute  you!"  he  cried,  making  some  grotesque 
movements  with  his  hands.  "Oh,  great  and  mighty 
potentate,  we  have  missed  you,  yes,  we've  missed  you! 
In  sooth,  we  have  been  getting  into  a  very  bad  way 
without  you.  Give  us  a  wag  of  your  fin,  salubrious 
one.  Ah-ha!  'Richard  is  himself  again!' ' 

Then  he  smote  himself  violently  on  the  chest  with 
his  clenched  fist  and  immediately  fell  to  coughing. 

"The  same  old  Jack !"  laughed  Merry. 

"Yes,  the  same  old  jackass,"  said  somebody  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  crowd. 

Ready  straightened  up  stiffly  and  glared  around. 

"Who  made  yonder  insolent  remark?"  he  fiercely  de- 
manded. "Bring  him  away  from  me,  else  I  may  be 
tempted  to  do  him  a  severe  kindness !  It  is  more  than 
mortal  flesh  can  bear!" 

"Somebody  is  onto  you,  Jack,"  smiled  Frank. 

"Isn't  it  sad?"  sighed  the  queer  fellow,  pretending 
to  wipe  away  a  tear.  "Just  when  I  attempt  to  assume 
a  little  dignity  some  blame  chump  has  to  spoil  every- 
thing. '  'Tis  envy,  kind  sir.  They  envy  me  my  radiant 


16  On  the  Campus. 

beauty  and  my  graceful  demeanor.  Base  churls! 
Common  clods!  I  scorn  them  all!" 

He  flung  out  one  hand  with  a  gesture  of  lofty  pride 
and  scorn,  his  chin  high  in  the  air  and  his  eyes  closed 
for  a  moment. 

"That  will  do,"  said  Browning.  "You're  nothing 
but  the  low  comedian.  Get  off  the  center  of  the  stage." 

"Refuse  me!"  murmured  Jack,  as  the  big  fellow 
pushed  him  aside. 

And  now  Starbright  appeared.  At  first  he  was  in- 
clined to  hold  back,  being  only  a  freshman,  but  Frank 
caught  sight  of  him  and  stepped  toward  him. 

Dick's  face  was  flushed  with  pride  and  pleasure 
when,  before  them  all,  the  great  senior,  the  greatest 
man  in  his  eyes  that  had  ever  attended  Yale,  grasped 
his  hand  and  shook  it  warmly,  saying: 

"I'm  glad  to  see  you,  Dick,  and  I  hope  you  are  get- 
ting into  form  for  the  nine." 

Frank  longed  to  say  more,  but  that  was  no  time 
nor  place  for  it.  He  realized  that  Starbright  had 
•opened  his  eyes  to  the  fact  that  Inza  Burrage  really 
and  truly  loved  him  as  she  had  in  the  old  days,  if  not 
more  intensely,  and,  regarding  himself  as  an  inter- 
loper, Dick  had  withdrawn  and  left  the  field  to  Frank, 
with  the  result  that  Merry  had  proposed  and  was  ac- 
cepted. 

No  time  had  been  set  for  the  marriage,  but  over  the 
gate  of  the  old  home  in  Fardale  they  had  plighted  their 
troth,  and  it  seemed  certain  that  the  happy  day  must 
vcome  at  last. 


On  the  Campus.  17 

Looking  into  Frank's  eyes,  Dick  fancied  he  read  the 
tfuth  there.  Despite  himself,  despite  his  nobleness  in 
withdrawing,  he  felt  a  pang  of  pain. 

Inza  was  lost  to  hi.wi ! 

"That's  it,  Merriwell !"  cried  Irving  Nash.  "You're 
needed  here  to  wake  the  men  up.  They  say  the  pros- 
pects for  a  winning  ball-team  this  season  are  decidedly 
dark." 

Merry  looked  serious. 

"We'll  have  to  see  how  that  is,"  he  said. 

Chickering's  set  had  not  rushed  to  greet  him,  and 
now  they  were  moving  away,  seeking  to  escape  without 
attracting  attention.  Rupert  had  expressed  a  desire 
to  go  over  and  shake  hands  with  Frank,  but  Skelding 
had  prevented  it. 

"Don't  give  that  fellow  Hodge  another  chance  to 
call  you  down,"  he  advised.  "Besides  that,  you  know 
Merriwell  does  not  think  much  of  you." 

"It  is  not  right  that  I  should  permit  his  feelings  to 
make  any  difference  in  my  treatment  of  him,"  mur- 
mured Rupert.  "If  he  hates  me  I  am  sorry  for  him, 
that's  all.  He  does  not  know  what  he  is  missing  by 
not  having  me  for  a  friend." 

"Let's  all  keep  away,"  said  Ives.  "The  entire  col- 
lege will  go  foolish  over  Merriwell  now,  see  if  it 
doesn't;  I  did  hope  the  fellow  would  never  show  his 
head  here  again." 

"Tho  did  I,"  chirped  Veazie.  "I  think  he'th  a 
jyegular  wuffian!  If  I  could  do  tho  jutht  ath  well  ath 


i8  On  the  Campus. 

not  I'd  never  become  tho  beathtly  stwong  ath  he  ith. 
I  wegard  thuth  stwength  as  thimply  bwutal." 

"Brutal  is  the  word,  chummie,"  agreed  Ollie  Lord. 
"There  ought  to  be  a  law  to  prevent  any  man  from 
training  till  he  is  so  much  stronger  than  other  men. 
It  isn't  fair  to  the  other  men." 

"Don't  talk  like  asses!"  growled  Skelding.  "You 
know  that  either  one  of  you  would  gladly  be  as  strong 
as  Merriwell  if  you  could ;  but  he's  not  the  only  athlete 
in  the  world — or  in  Yale,  for  that  matter.  It's  this 
bowing  down  and  worshiping  him  that  gives  me  a 
pain!  Why,  I  could  be  just  as  strong  and  skilful  as 
he  is  if  I'd  deny  myself  drinks  and  smokes  and  good 
things  to  eat  and  keep  working  away  every  day  to  put 
myself  in  form.  But  I  like  a  little  booze,  I  enjoy  a 
cigarette,  I  like  to  stuff  my  stomach  full  of  good 
things,  and  I  won't  pelt  away  with  dumb-bells,  clubs, 
chest-weights,  and  such  things  every  moment  I  get 
from  my  studies.  What's  life  good  for  if  a  fellow  has 
got  to  be  a  regular  slave !" 

"I  with  you  wath  ath  thmart  ath  Merriwell,"  lisped 
Lew. 

"Well,  I  thought  I  was  once,"  confessed  Gene ;  "but 
I  found  it  was  no  use  for  me  to  try  to  buck  against  a 
fellow  like  him  who  kept  at  his  very  best  all  the  time. 
I'm  not  fool  enough  now  to  try  to  fight  him  with  my 
fists.  If  I  found  another  good  way  to  get  in  a  lick  at 
him  I  might  try  it." 

"That's  the  only  way  to  jar  him,"  said  Tilton  Hull, 


On  the  Campus.  19 

his  high  collar  holding  his  chin  very  high  in  the  air. 
"Let's  go  up  to  Rupert's  room  and  talk  it  over." 

"Yeth,  yeth!"  urged  Veazie.  "I  feel  the  need  of  a 
thigawette  and  a  dwink  of  wine  thince  Gene  had  that 
wow  with  that  low  fellow  Hodge.  That  dithturbed 
my  nerveth." 

So  they  passed  from  the  campus,  and  the  sun  seemed 
to  shine  more  brightly  when  they  were  gone. 

Bart  Hodge  had  shaken  hands  with  Frank  during 
the  rush  and  crush  of  the  students  to  reach  Merriwell, 
but  he  did  so  silently  and  withdrew  at  once.  He  had 
been  ready  enough  to  defend  Merry  from  his  defamers 
a  short  time  before,  but  he  was  not  among  those  who 
made  the  greatest  hurrah  over  Frank's  return  to  col- 
lege. 

After  a  while  Merry  looked  round  for  Hodge  and 
saw  him  standing  quite  by  himself  on  the  outskirts  of 
the  throng.  The  expression  on  Bart's  face  was  not 
one  of  happiness ;  indeed,  he  seemed  sad  and  depressed. 

It  is  possible  that  an  inkling  of  the  thoughts  pass- 
ing through  Bart's  mind  came  to  Merry  then. 

The  dark-eyed  lad  knew  nothing  of  what  had  taken 
place  while  Frank  was  away  from  college.  He  knew 
only  that  he  cared  for  Elsie  Bellwood  with  all  the  in- 
tensity of  his  passionate  nature  and  that  she  had  re- 
peatedly told  him  she  would  never  marry  at  all. 

Why  had  she  made  that  assertion?  Was  it  not  be- 
cause she  still  loved  Frank  Merriwell?  Bart  believed 
so,  and  it  was  his  conviction  that  in  the  end  Frank 


2O  On  the  Campus. 

must  win  her,  for  had  not  he  a  way  of  winning  any- 
thing he  greatly  desired! 

Still,  he  would  not  give  up.  He  had  told  Frank 
squarely  and  honestly  that  he  would  never  cease  his 
efforts  to  obtain  Elsie  till  he  knew  beyond  the  shadow 
of  a  doubt  that  there  was  no  hope  for  him. 

Then,  what?  Who  could  tell?  For  Bart  had  a  pe- 
culiar disposition,  and  a  disappointment  of  this  sort 
might  wreak  havoc  with  his  sensitive  organization. 

Merriwell's  hand  had  lifted  him  from  the  path  of 
temptation  and  ruin  in  the  past  and  set  his  feet  upon 
the  highway  leading  to  splendid  achievements,  but  this 
disappointment  might  undo  all  the  good  that  had  been 
done  and  turn  him  back  along  the  downward  course. 

Frank  thought  of  this,  and  he  was  eager  to  let  his 
friend  know  what  had  happened,  revealing  to  him  that 
the  road  to  Elsie's  heart  was  open  and  undisputed. 

"Hodge!" 

Frank  spoke  Bart's  name  and  started  toward  him. 
Then  one  of  his  many  friends  caught  hold  of  him  and 
asked  him  a  question,  which  he  paused  to  answer. 

When  he  looked  for  Bart  again  he  looked  in  vain, 
for  Hodge  had  hastened  away. 


CHAPTER  III. 

A   SHOCK   FOR   BART. 

Bart  Hodge  sat  alone  in  his  room.  The  curtains 
were  drawn  at  the  windows  and  a  lighted  student's 
lamp  was  on  the  table,  over  which  books  and  papers 
were  scattered.  In  Bart's  hand  he  held  the  photograph 
of  a  pretty,  sweet-faced  girl,  at  which  he  was  gazing 
with  earnest  intentness,  the  light  in  his  dark  eyes  being 
one  of  unspeakable  admiration. 

It  was  the  picture  of  Elsie  Bell  wood.  Bart  had  been 
trying  to  study,  but  his  mind  would  revert  to  Elsie,  try 
as  he  might  to  fix  it  on  other  matters,  till  at  last  he 
gave  up,  brought  out  her  picture  and  sat  there  musing 
over  it. 

His  love  for  her  had  seemed  to  take  possession  of 
him  full  blown  in  a  moment,  but  cooler  afterthought 
had  revealed  to  him  that  he  had  always  admired  her 
intensely  since  that  wild  night  when  he  had  aided 
Frank  to  save  her  from  the  wreck  on  Tiger  Tooth 
Ledge,  near  Fardale. 

He  had  first  seen  her  that  night  as  she  was  lashed 
to  the  mast  of  the  doomed  vessel  which  had  struck  upon 
the  terrible  ledge.  Led  by  Merriwell,  the  cadets  had 
succeeded  in  manning  a  boat  and  pulling  off  to  the 
vessel.  On  reaching  the  dripping  deck  Bart  had  seen 
Elsie  held  fast  to  the  mast  by  ropes,  but  in  tfie  gloom 


22  A  Shock  for  Bart. 

he  was  unable  to  discern  if  she  were  young  or  old. 
Her  voice,  however,  as  she  appealed  to  the  lads  for 
aid  when  her  father  was  assaulted  by  one  of  the  sailors 
had  sounded  musical  and  sweet. 

The  music  of  that  voice  had  stirred  silent  chords 
within  Bart's  heart  many  times  since  that  wild  night. 
But  he  was  loyal  to  Merry,  his  best  friend,  and  it  had 
seemed  that  Elsie  and  Frank  cared  for  each  other,  so, 
with  Spartanlike  heroism,  he  had  resolutely  compelled 
himself  to  think  not  at  all  of  her. 

Thus  he  had  lived  with  the  germ  of  love  in  his  heart, 
refusing  to  permit  it  to  sprout  and  grow.  For  a  long 
time  he  had  fancied  himself  a  "woman-hater,"  but 
it  was  all  because  other  girls  made  him  think  of  Elsie 
— made  him  think  of  her  as  a  thousand  times  more 
winsome,  pretty,  and  attractive.  That  he  wished  to 
forget,  so  he  avoided  girls  in  general. 

But  it  is  not  natural  for  a  strong,  manly  youth  to 
shun  womanly  and  attractive  girls,  and  Hodge  began 
to  succumb  at  last.  He  could  not  hold  himself  aloof 
from  them,  try  as  he  might.  He  was  naturally  at- 
tracted by  them  and  enjoyed  their  society  far  more 
than  he  would  confess  to  himself. 

And  the  time  came  when,  like  other  young  men,  he 
fancied  he  cared  for  one  of  them.  The  first  was  Stella 
Stanley,  an  actress  several  years  older  than  Hodge; 
but  Stella  had  told  him  it  was  not  true  love  and  that 
he  would  get  over  it. 

At  first  he  had  taken  this  rather  hard,  but  he  came 


A  Shock  for  Bart.  23 

at  last  to  recognize  her  wisdom  and  thank  her  for  her 
plain  speech. 

Then  there  was  another,  Grace  Vernon,  who  fas- 
cinated him  for  a  time. 

With  Elsie  it  was  different.  Having'  once  discov- 
ered how  much  he  cared  for  her,  he  was  unable  to 
brush  aside  the  knowledge,  which  remained  with  him 
constantly,  no  matter  what  he  did  or  where  he  was. 

The  knowledge  that  his  love  for  her  might  be  hope- 
less simply  made  it  all  the  more  intense,  for  it  was  not 
Bart's  nature  to  relinquish  anything  on  which  he  had 
once  fairly  set  his  heart. 

But  Merriwell  stood  as  a  barrier  between  them,  and, 
worse  than  everything  else,  Merriwell  was  his  friend. 

No  wonder  Hodge  spent  sleepless  nights !  No  won- 
der he  spent  wretched  days !  No  wonder  he  lost  flesh 
and  became  more  and  more  irritable  till  it  became  dan- 
gerous to  cross  him  in  anything! 

Still,  in  his  loyal  heart  he  was  true  to  Frank  Merri- 
well, whom  he  well  knew  had  been  his  best  friend  and 
benefactor  in  a  thousand  ways  when  almost  any  other 
fellow  would  have  been  a  mortal  foe. 

As  of  old,  Hodge  would  have  yielded  up  his  life  for 
Frank,  but  his  love  for  Elsie  was  something  stronger 
and  more  intense  than  his  love  for  life,  and  he  could 
not  put  that  aside.  As  of  old,  he  had  been  ready  to 
defend  Frank  against  enemies  and  traducers;  but  the 
sight  of  Frank's  happy  face  filled  him  with  gloomy 
'forebodings  and  intense  misery. 


24  A  Shock  for  Bart. 

Why  had  Merry  looked  so  happy?  Why  had  Ee 
remained  away  from  Yale  so  long? 

Bart  could  not  help  being  suspicious  of  that  happi- 
ness. He  could  not  help  wondering  if  it  came  through 
an  understanding  between  Frank  and  Elsie.  And  that 
had  been  brought  about  while  Merry  was  away  from 
college ! 

If  this  was  true,  Bart  felt  that  Elsie  was  lost  to  him, 
and  the  ambition  had  gone  out  of  his  life  forever. 
Therefore  he  sat  alone  in  his  room  and  gazed  long- 
ingly, earnestly,  and  almost  hopelessly,  at  her  pictured 
face.  Her  open  eyes  seemed  to  smile  back  at  him  re- 
assuringly, but  they  did  not  lift  the  gloom  from  his 
heart.  Her  lips 

Impulsively,  he  lifted  the  picture  and  kissed  it. 

The  door  opened  quietly  and  some  one  stepped  into 
the  room. 

"Hello,  Bart,  old  man!"  cried  a  hearty,  familiar 
voice.  "What  are  you  doing  there  ?" 

Hodge  sprang  up,  his  face  flaming,  and  tried  to  hide 
the  picture  behind  him. 

Frank  closed  the  door  and  advanced  into  the  room, 

Hodge  stood  beside  the  table,  trembling  from  head 
to  feet.  His  eyes  were  fastened  on  Merry  and  he  was 
speechless. 

"I  thought  you'd  come  round  to  see  me,  Bart,"  said 
Frank.  "You  did  not,  so  I  came  to  see  you,  though 
I'm  missing  time  that  I  ought  to  spend  in  grinding. 
Oh,  I'll  be  a  greasy  grind  for  a  while  now  till  I  get  on 


A  Shock  for  Bart.  25 

Easy  Street  again.  It  will  take  lots  of  stiff  work  for 
me  to  catch  up,  but  I  believe  I  can  do  it." 

Still  Bart  stood  there  without  speaking-,  looking 
straight  at  Frank. 

"What's  the  matter?"  Merry  asked,  in  perplexity. 
"Why  do  you  stare  at  me  that  way?  Why,  hang  it! 
vou  don't  seem  at  all  pleased  to  see  me." 

He  was  surprised  and  hurt  by  Bart's  singular  man- 
ner. 

Hodge  opened  his  lips  to  say  something,  but  the 
words  did  not  seem  to  come  freely,  and  he  stuck. 

Merry  came  close  and  placed  his  hands  on  Bart's 
shoulders,  looking  deep  into  the  dark  eyes  of  his 
comrade. 

"Tell  me  why  you  meet  me  like  this,  old  man!"  he 
trrged.  "Have  I  done  anything  to  cause  it?" 

"No." 

"Then  why " 

"It's  nothing,  Merriwell — nothing!"  huskily  mut- 
tered Bart.  "Take  a  chair.  I've  been  thinking,  and 
I  expect  I'm  in  a  deuced  unsociable  mood,  but  I'll  try 
to  be  decent." 

Frank  did  not  sit  down  immediately  on  the  invita- 
tion. Instead,  he  looked  at  Bart  as  if  trying  to  read 
his  very  thoughts. 

"You're  thin,"  he  said.  "You  have  lost  flesh  and 
there  are  dark  circles  round  your  eyes.  Are  you  ill?" 

"No." 

"Something  is  the  matter  with  you,  and  I  fancy  I 
know  what  it  is." 


2b  A  Shock  for  Bart. 

"Perhaps  so." 

"I've  come  to  talk  it  over " 


The  dark-eyed  lad  cut  him  short  with  a  gesture. 

"Don't !"  he  exclaimed  hoarsely.  "Talk  of  anything 
else — baseball,  spring  sports,  the  Southern  trip,  any- 
thing!" 

"What  is  that  you  have  in  your  hand  ?" 

Almost  rudely  Bart  pushed  Frank  aside  and  walked 
to  a  desk,  into  the  drawer  of  which  he  thrust  the  photo- 
graph. But  when  he  turned  round  he  felt  certain  Mer- 
riwell  knew  it  was  a  picture  of  Elsie  and  that  he  had 
been  seen  pressing  that  picture  to  his  lips. 

"Sit  down,"  he  invited  again,  with  a  motion  to- 
ward a  chair. 

Frank  did  so. 

"There  are  a  number  of  things  I  wish  to  speak 
about,  Bart,"  said  he.  "One  important  thing  is  the 
nine.  Are  you  working  to  get  into  form  to  catch? 
That's  one  thing." 

"Perhaps  I'm  not  working  as  hard  as  usual,"  con- 
fessed Hodge.  "Somehow,  I  haven't  seemed  to  have 
any  heart  in  it.  You  know  you  were  not  here,  and 
that  has  made  lots  of  difference." 

"I'm  here  now,  and  we  must  get  to  work,  for  I  hear 
that  the  outlook  for  a  strong  team  is  very  unsatisfac- 
tory." 

"It  might  be  better." 

"Well,  if  we  get  into  our  usual  form,  the  battery 
should  not  be  so  very  weak,  though,  of  course,  I  can't 
pitch  all  the  games." 


A  Shock  for  Bart.  27 

"Do  you  know  who's  working  like  a  fiend  to  get 
into  the  box?" 

"I  haven't  heard." 

"That  cad,  Morgan !  Why,  he's  training  every  day, 
and  they  say  there's  a  prospect  that  he'll  make  it. 
What  do  you  think  of  that?" 

"A  good  thing." 

"Good?    Do  you  fancy  I'll  ever  catch  with  him 
pitching?    Not  for  my  life!" 

"Not  even  for  Yale?" 

"Why  should  I?" 

"Because  you  should  be  ready  to  do  anything  for 
Yale,  my  boy." 

"I  can't  swallow  that  scoundrel,  and  I  refuse  to 
have  him  thrust  down  my  throat!  That's  all  there  is 
to  it!  If  you  can  stand  for  him,  that's  all  right,  but  I 
decline." 

"Well,  we  won't  get  into  an  argument  over  that 
now,  though  I  want  you  to  remember  the  splendid 
work  Morgan  did  on  the  gridiron  last  fall." 

"And  I  don't  want  you  to  forget  that  up  to  the  last 
minute  he  pulled  every  string  possible  to  down  you, 
Merriwell.  He  was  as  full  of  tricks  as  an  egg  is  full 
of  meat." 

"Let  it  pass  now.  I  hear  that  Starbright  has  not 
been  given  much  of  a  show  with  the  squad.  How  is 
that?" 

"Rot!  You  know  any  man  will  be  given  all  the 
show  he  deserves." 

"And  Browning?" 


28  A  Shock  for  Bart. 

"He  refuses  to  get  out." 

"And  Ready?" 

"He's  too  flip.  He's  got  himself  disliked  by  his 
freshness,  and  I  fancy  he'll  have  a  hard  pull  to  make 
the  nine." 

"Nor  is  he  better  than  other  men  who  are  working 
for  his  place.  I  have  been  promised  absolute  authority 
this  spring,  and  I  shall  have  something  to  say  about 
the  make-up  of  the  team  I  am  to  captain." 

By  this  time  Bart  had  begun  to  cool  down  somewhat, 
and  now,  of  a  sudden,  Merry  reverted  to  the  thing 
about  which  he  had  attempted  to  speak  a  while  before, 

"Hodge,  you  want  to  stop  worrying  about  the  thing 
that  has  troubled  you  so  much  lately.  I  am  your  truest 
friend,  and  you  must  let  me  speak  out  frankly.  You'll 
feel  better  when  I  have  finished.  I  know  whose  picture 
you  held  in  your  hand  when  I  entered — the  picture 
you  put  in  that  drawer." 

Bart's  face  was  very  pale  now  and  he  had  begun  to 
quiver  again. 

•  "We  had  a  plain  face-to-face  talk  about  her  on 
Cumberland  Island  not  so  very  long  ago,  but  the  fin- 
ish of  that  talk  left  us  just  where  we  began.  Since 
then  many  things  have  happened,  and,  as  far  as  I  am 
concerned,  that  matter  has  been  entirely  settled." 

Bart  felt  a  tightening  about  his  heart.  So  it  was 
true  that  Frank  had  remained  away  from  college  to 
see  Elsie  again  and  to  win  her  back  to  him!  Some- 
how, it  did  not  seem  just  exactly  like  Merriwell,  and 


A  Shock  for  Bart  29 

yet  how  could  Bart  complain,  for  had  not  Frank  held 
the  prior  claim  to  her? 

"Elsie  is  a  beautiful,  noble-hearted  girl,  whom  I 
cannot  find  words  to  properly  extol,"  Merriwell 
calmly  continued,  his  coolness  and  confidence  causing 
Bart's  heart  to  sink  still  more.  "I  do  not  wonder  that 
I  came  to  admire  her  very  much.  It  would  have  been 
far  more  remarkable  if  I  had  not.  But  I  have  learned 
that  I  wholly  misinterpreted  my  feelings  and  emotions 
toward  her.  Read  others  however  well  I  may,  I  did 
not  properly  read  and  analyze  myself  in  regard  to 
her." 

What  was  Frank  saying?  Hodge  felt  a  rush  of 
blood  to  his  heart,  which  began  to  thump  violently  in 
his  breast. 

"Events  which  I  cannot  fully  describe  have  opened 
my  eyes  and  revealed  to  me  the  truth.  I  loved  Elsie 
and  still  love  her  as  a  very,  dear  friend,  and  one  of  the 
sweetest  girls  alive,  but  I  do  not  love  her  and  never 
did  love  her  as  one  should  love  the  girl  he  means  to 
make  his  wife." 

Bart's  lips  parted,  but  no  sound  escaped  them.  He 
stared  at  Frank  as  if  turned  to  stone. 

"But  I  have  learned,"  Merry  continued,  "that  I 
love  another  with  all  my  heart,  and  that  knowledge 
has  brought  me  great  happiness,  for  my  love  is  re- 
turned, and  we  are  engaged  to  be  married  some  time, 
though  the  day  is  not  set  yet.  Of  course,  you  know 
without  being  told  that  the  other  of  whom  I  speak 
is  Inza  Bur  rage." 


30  A  Shock  for  Bart. 

Bart  sprang  up. 

"Mer dwell,"  he  gasped,  "you — you  really  mean  that 
you  are  engaged — to  Inza?" 

"Yes,  that  is  just  what  I  mean.  So  you  see,  my 
dear  boy,  that  you  have  been  worrying  over  a  trouble 
that  does  not  exist,  and  the  field  is  open  and  clear  for 
you  to  win  Elsie." 

There  was  a  ringing  as  of  many  bells  in  Bart's  ears, 
and  the  room  seemed  to  whirl  round  him. 

Then  he  sat  down  quickly,  all  the  strength  having 
gone  out  of  his  legs.  But  the  happiness  of  the  shock 
made  him  long  to  shout,  though  his  lips  uttered  no 
sound. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A   DESPERATE   ENEMY. 

"Ginger  up,  there,  Robinson !  You're  worse  than  a 
dead  man !" 

"Get  in  front  of  'em,  Dashleigh!  Stop  'em  with 
your  body  if  you  can't  hold  'em  with  your  hands!" 

"You  throw  like  an  old  woman,  Mason!  You'll 
break  your  back  some  day." 

"Here,  here,  Ready!  that  will  do  with  those  flour- 
ishes! When  you  get  hold  of  a  ball  throw  it.  Don't 
juggle  it." 

"Say,  you  chap  with  the  curly  hair,  don't  get  so 
excited.  Take  a  little  time  in  throwing  to  first,  after 
picking  up  a  ball." 

"Who  is  that  long-legged  chap?"  Gamp  questioned. 

"Here,  Gamp,  it's  your  turn  to  bat." 

"Oh,  murder!  Who  let  that  grounder  go  through 
him?  Carker?  Is  that  his  name?  Say,  Carker, 
you're  a  sieve !  Keep  your  feet  together  and  you'll  do 
better." 

It  was  a  lively  scene  in  the  great  baseball  cage  at 
Yale,  for  the  squad  of  candidates  for  the  ball-team 
were  hard  at  work  and  the  coaches  were  putting  them 
"through  the  paces." 

The  men  were  working  hard,  and  the  coaches  were 


32  A  Desperate  Enemy. 

yelling  and  shouting  at  them,  giving  orders,  criticizing, 
commenting — but  seldom  expressing  approval. 

It  would  not  do  to  let  any  man  think  he  was  doing 
too  well  at  this  early  stage  of  the  work,  for  it  might 
spoil  him  by  giving  him  a  good  opinion  of  his  ability. 

More  men  have  been  spoiled  by  praise  than  by  ad- 
verse criticism,  and  the  professional  coach  knows  this 
very  well. 

It  is  a  pretty  level-headed  youth  who  can  stand 
open  praise  without  thinking  himself  the  "only  one." 

Sometimes  it  pays  to  praise  a  man,  but  it  is  best  to 
know  your  man  before  you  venture  to  praise  him.  Be 
sure  it  will  do  him  more  good  than  silence,  or  keep 
your  mouth  shut. 

In  rare  instances  praise  will  serve  to  spur  a  man  on 
to  do  still  better.  Far  oftener  it  will  cause  him  to 
think  he  is  good  enough  already  and  that  the  other 
fellows  should  hustle  to  keep  in  his  class. 

The  fellow  who  manages  or  coaches  a  ball-team 
must  know  this,  and  he  must  be  exceedingly  careful 
with  his  praise. 

In  the  cage  the  sweating  crowd  of  candidates  ac- 
cepted this  criticism  without  a  word,  for  it  would  not 
do  to  "talk  back."  When  one  was  called  down  for 
something  he  did,  if  he  was  a  good  man,  he  shut  his 
teeth  and  made  an  extra  attempt  to  do  it  well  the  next 
time.  If  he  was  sulky  and  had  a  bad  temper,  he  might 
tell  himself  he  did  not  care  a  rap,  and  then  he  would 
be  careless  and  do  worse  the  next  time.  In  that  case, 
the  chances  were  he  would  be  quietly  informed  that  it 


A  Desperate  Enemy.  33 

would  be  a  waste  of  time  for  him  to  practise  further, 
and  that  the  room  he  occupied  in  the  cage  was  needed 
for  others. 

Of  course,  there  were  men,  and  plenty  of  them,  who 
worked  like  slaves  to  improve,  yet  failed  to  make  the 
necesssary  progress,  and  who  were  dropped  one  after 
another  for  that  reason. 

But  no  man  of  this  class,  willing  and  determined, 
was  dropped  till  the  coaches  were  perfectly  satisfied 
that  there  was  no  possible  chance  of  making  good 
material  out  of  him. 

The  turnout  this  year  had  been  most  unsatisfac- 
tory, barely  more  than  half  the  usual  number  of  can- 
didates coming  to  the  cage  each  day. 

This  happened  despite  all  efforts  to  get  out  the  usual 
large  squad.  It  seemed  very  remarkable,  but  men 
came  to  attribute  it  to  the  absence  of  Merriwell,  which, 
they  said,  accounted  for  the  apathetic  interest  taken  in 
baseball. 

There  was  at  one  time  talk  of  making  some  move  to 
choose  a  new  captain  for  the  team,  to  see  if  that  would 
not  bring  about  better  results ;  but  Merriwell  had  given 
no  notice  that  he  would  not  be  on  hand  to  fill  the  posi- 
tion, and  the  one  who  hinted  openly  of  .selecting  some 
one  to  fill  his  place  was  soon  hissed  down. 

But  now  Merriwell  had  arrived,  and  his  return 
showed  immediately  by  the  change  that  took  place  in 
the  cage.  He  had  made  inquiries  about  the  work,  and, 
having  learned  what  men  were  practising  and  who 


34  A  Desperate  Enemy. 

were  not,  he  went  around  among  those  whom  he  re- 
garded as  having  a  chance  to  make  the  nine. 

The  following  day  a  swarm  of  new  men  flocked  into 
the  cage  and  went  to  work  with  a  vim  that  astonished 
and  delighted  the  coaches.  Joe  Gamp,  Hock  Mason, 
Berlin  Carson,  and  Greg  Carker  were  among  the  new 
men. 

Carson  had  given  up  in  despair,  having  tried  to 
make  the  team  the  year  before  and  failed ;  but  during 
the  trip  of  Merriwell's  athletes  through  the  West  the 
previous  summer  Frank  had  been  given  an  opportu- 
nity to  see  what  the  rancher's  son  could  do  at  the 
game,  and  he  urged  Berlin  to  come  out  and  make  one 
more  attempt  to  get  onto  the  varsity  nine. 

Frank  did  not  have  so  much  confidence  in  Greg 
Carker,  the  pessimist,  for  he  knew  that  Carker's  pe- 
culiar temperament  was  such  that  he  could  never  be 
at  his  very  best  in  anything. 

Joe  Gamp,  however,  despite  his  awkwardness,  was 
one  of  the  best  outfielders  Merry  had  ever  seen.  This 
was  rather  astonishing,  for  Gamp  was  not  regarded  at 
college  as  a  person  having  the  least  baseball  material 
in  him,  and  he  had  never  tried  for  a  place  on  the 
varsity  nine. 

But  Merriwell  had  seen  him  play  center  field  on 
the  great  athletic  trip,  and  he  knew  Gamp  could  cover 
an  "outer  garden"  in  splendid  style,  and  could  throw 
with  almost  the  marvelous  power  of  the  once  famed 
Sockalexis,  and  was  an  unusually  good  hitter  against 


A  Desperate  Enemy.  35 

pitchers  who  had  not  discovered  his  "weak  spot" — 
high  and  close  to  his  shoulders. 

With  Hock  Mason  it  was  different.  Frank  had 
seen  Mason,  who  was  from  the  South,  catch  some  flies 
in  field  practise,  which  he  had  done  very  well ;  but  out- 
side of  that  Merry  knew  very  little  about  the  fellow 
except  that  he  was  sturdy,  well  built,  and  a  perfect 
bulldog  at  anything  he  set  out  to  do. 

It  was  well  enough  to  get  such  a  man  into  the  cage 
and  see  if  something  could  not  be  made  of  him,  so 
Frank  urged  Mason  to  turn  out  and  practise.  Mason 
did  so. 

A  long  time  before  this  Mason  had  been  one  of  the 
greatest  bullies  in  college ;  but  he  found  more  than  his 
match  in  Frank,  and  the  result  of  the  sound  thrashing 
he  received  was  very  beneficial.  After  that  it  was  his 
belief  that  Merriwell  must  despise  him,  but  when  he 
was  injured  and  lying  in  a  hospital  it  was  Merriwell 
who  came  every  day  to  ask  about  him,  it  was  Merri- 
well who  first  reached  his  side  when  a  visitor  was  per- 
mitted to  see  him,  and  it  was  Merriwell  who  pressed 
his  hand  and  spoke  encouraging  words  to  him. 

When  he  left  that  hospital  the  student  from  South 
Carolina  was  cured  completely  of  his  bullying  ways, 
and  Frank  Merriwell  had  made  a  new  and  stanch 
friend. 

Still,  Mason  was  strangely  proud,  and  he  would  not 
force  himself  on  any  one,  for  which  reason  it  hap- 
pened that  he  never  became  one  of  Merri well's  recog- 
nized "flock." 


36  A  Desperate  Enemy. 

Deep  in  his  heart  Mason  had  often  longed  to  join 
the  jolly  band  of  Merriwell's  friends,  but  his  pride  had 
held  him  back. 

Now,  when  Frank  came  and  asked  him  to  get  out 
for  practise  in  the  cage,  Hock  was  ready  enough  to 
do  so,  even  though  it  seemed  really  preposterous  that 
he  could  ever  make  sufficient  advancement  to  have  a 
show  to  get  onto  the  nine. 

Bertrand  Defarge  was  among  the  men  who  had 
taken  his  regular  amount  of  work  in  the  cage  day 
after  day,  and  he  was  showing  up  pretty  well,  too. 
But  Frank  knew  Defarge  of  old,  and  he  was  aware 
that  such  a  fellow,  though  full  of  vigor,  fire,  and 
intensity  at  times,  could  not  always  be  relied  upon, 
having  a  temper  that  conquered  and  swayed  him  abso- 
lutely at  times. 

Of  course,  Frank  was  on  hand,  and  it  was  his  pres- 
ence in  the  cage  that  seemed  to  make  the  marvelous 
change  in  things,  so  that  the  men  went  at  their  work 
with  a  gingery  earnestness  that  quite  surprised  and 
wholly  delighted  the  hitherto  disgusted  and  disheart- 
ened coaches. 

And  Frank  had  managed  to  keep  himself  in  excel- 
lent form,  so  that  he  remained  the  admiration  and 
marvel  of  the  athletic-loving  students.  He  began  his 
pitching-work  easily,  however,  knowing  the  folly  of 
starting  off  with  too  much  vigor,  even  though  he  was 
in  perfect  condition. 

Even  Frank  was  not  above  taking  advice  from  the 
coachers,  although  it  is  probable  that  not  one  man 


A  Desperate  Enemy.  37 

among-  them  knew  more  about  baseball  and  the  work 
of  getting  into  trim  for  it  than  did  Merry  himself. 

If  any  one  watched  the  first  day  to  see  him  throw 
some  samples  of  the  "double-shoot"  that  person  was 
disappointed,  for  he  indulged  in  nothing  of  the  kind. 

But  he  still  had  it  at  his  command,  as  he  very  well 
knew,  and  his  wrist  was  hard  as  iron.  When  the  time 
came  he  would  swiftly  convince  his  doubting  oppo- 
nents that  the  "double-shoot"  was  not  a  fanciful  inven- 
tion of  some  romancer's  brain. 

For  among  the  hundreds  of  pitchers  who  had 
worked  and  tried  and  schemed  to  learn  his  secret,  it 
was  not  probable  that  one  had  entirely  succeeded, 
therefore  they  gave  up  in  despair,  and  became  scoffers, 
saying  there  was  no  such  thing  as  the  double-shoot. 

Among  the  candidates  for  pitching-honors  was 
Dade  Morgan,  and  he  worked  persistently  and  faith- 
fully. 

On  the  first  day  of  Frank's  appearance  in  the  cage 
one  of  the  coaches  asked  him  to  watch  Morgan's  work 
and  see  what  he  thought  of  it.  Merry  did  so  for  a 
few  moments,  and  Dade  flushed  hotly  when  he  saw 
this,  though  he  kept  at  it  without  a  break. 

When  Frank  had  moved  away  the  man  who  was 
coaching  Morgan  said: 

"Try  to  throw  that  drop  with  just  the  same  mo- 
tion you  use  in  throwing  your  other  curves.  You  give 
yourself  dead  away  every  time  you  start  to  throw  a 
drop.  The  batter  would  know  just  what  was  coming." 

Dade's  dark  eyes  flashed  and  drooped.     For  one 


38  A  Desperate  Enemy. 

moment  he  betrayed  anger,  and  then  he  smiled  sweetly, 
saying : 

"I'll  do  my  level  best." 

But  Bertrand  Defarge  quickly  found  an  opportunity 
to  slip  over  to  Morgan  and  sneer: 

"So  you  got  a  call-down!  I  knew  it  would  come 
the  minute  Merriwell  saw  what  you  were  doing.  He's 
jealous,  and  you  don't  stand  the  least  show  of  making 
the  nine.  You  may  as  well  give  up  trying  now." 

"How  about  you?" 

"Oh,  I'm  not  a  pitcher,  and  there  is  no  chance  that 
I'll  rob  him  of  any  glory.  Indeed,  if  I  pan  out  well, 
I  may  add  to  his  glory  by  helping  him  in  games,  so 
he'll  let  my  head  alone.  Yours  comes  off  before  the 
Easter  trip,  see  if  it  doesn't.  You  may  as  well  quit 
now." 

"I'll  never  quit  till  I  have  to !"  returned  Dade.  "Get 
out  and  let  me  alone !  I'm  sick  of  your  croaking!" 

"Go  to  blazes !"  hissed  Defarge.  "I  may  find  a  way 
to  make  you  sicker!" 

A  number  of  men  were  hard  at  work  fielding 
ground  balls  and  throwing  to  first.  Mason  was  one 
of  this  squad,  and  he  was  not  making  a  great  success 
of  it.  The  coaches  yelled  at  him,  but  that  did  not  seem 
to  do  him  much  good. 

Then  Frank  Merriwell,  being  a  privileged  character, 
walked  down  and  talked  to  Mason  in  a  quiet,  soothing 
tone. 

"You're  rattled,  Mason,"  said  Merry.  "Just  get 
rid  of  the  idea  that  everybody  is  looking1  at  vou.  They 


A  Desperate  Enemy.  39 

are  not.  The  other  men  are  busy  taking  care  of  their 
own  affairs." 

"I  reckon  you  made  a  mistake  when  you  asked  me 
to  get  out  here,  sah,"  said  the  Southerner,  the  perspi- 
ration standing  out  on  his  drawn  and  worried  face. 
"I  judge  I  ain't  put  up  right  to  be  howled  at  like  this 
by  a  lot  of  loud-mouthed  duffers." 

"Don't  be  touchy,  man.  You  can't  succeed  if  you 
are.  We've  all  had  coaches  yell  at  us  in  the  same 
way." 

"But  it's  mighty  galling  to  a  man  like  me." 

"Haven't  a  doubt  of  it,  but  you  must  set  your  jaws 
and  lay  right  down  to  the  work.  Get  your  body  in 
front  of  those  bounding  balls  every  time,  even  if  they 
take  your  head  off.  Keep  your  heels  together,  and 
they  may  stop  balls  when  your  hands  fail.  Jump  into 
the  track  of  anything  that  comes  your  way.  If  it's  a 
slow  one,  go  ahead  to  meet  it,  for  every  second  counts 
in  trying  to  cut  off  a  runner  who  is  sprinting  to  first." 

"All  right.  I'll  try  it  again,  sah,  but  I'm  mighty 
afraid  it  isn't  my  line." 

After  that  Mason  did  better  stopping  the  balls  that 
came  his  way,  even  though  he  did  not  pick  them  all 
up  cleanly,  but  he  made  his  worst  mistake  in  his  hurry 
to  throw  to  first.  Seeing  this,  Frank  fancied  he  had 
given  the  fellow  a  wrong  impression,  and  so  worked 
round  to  Hock  to  set  him  straight. 

"Don't  be  in  such  a  fearful  hurry  to  throw,"  he  in- 
structed. "You  make  poor  throws  by  your  hurry." 


40  A  Desperate  Enemy. 

"But  you  told  me  a  little  while  ago  that  every  mo- 
ment counts  in  cutting  off  a  man  running  to  first." 

"That's  true,  but  it's  far  better  to  lose  a  little  time 
in  taking  care  to  make  a  good  throw  than  it  is  to 
hustle  for  all  you're  worth  and  lose  the  man  entirely 
by  a  poor  throw.  Besides  that,  you  do  not  throw 
right.  You  never  get  into  the  right  position." 

"That  being  the  case,  sah,  I  reckon  I  better  quit 
now." 

"I  don't  think  you're  a  quitter,  Mason.  Let  me 
tell  you  where  you  make  your  mistake.  In  your  haste 
to  throw,  if  you  pick  the  ball  up  with  your  body  lean- 
ing away  from  the  base  you  wish  to  throw  to,  you  do 
not  take  time  to  right  yourself,  but  you  throw  in  that 
attitude.  You  can't  get  any  force  into  the  throw. 
Besides,  you  swing  your  arm  too  far.  Try  a  shorter 
swing;  throw  from  the  ear.  Never  take  a  hop,  skip, 
and  a  jump  before  throwing,  as  I  saw  you  do  a  few 
moments  ago.  Even  though  you  send  the  ball  whizzing 
across  the  diamond  like  a  bullet,  you  have  lost  lots  of 
valuable  time  before  you  got  it  away  from  your  hand, 
and  that  may  mean  the  loss  of  the  runner.  Pull  your 
hand  back  behind  your  ear,  lean  forward  a  little  as 
you  throw,  and  just  as  it  leaves  your  hand  take  a 
single  step.  Try  that.  Practice  it  all  the  time. 

Then  Frank  worked  on  to  another  man  he  had  se- 
lected to  advise,  and  in  this  manner  Merriwell  assisted 
the  coaches.  In  fact,  his  quiet  coaching  was  far 
more  efficacious  than  that  of  some  of  the  regular 
coaches  who  made  considerable  noise. 


A  Desperate  Enemy.  41 

A  regular  system  of  batting-practise  was  gone 
through,  each  man  being  directed  how  to  stand  prop- 
erly, how  to  hold  his  bat,  and  how  to  swing.  Bunting 
and  place  hitting  were  practised  by  the  more  skilful 
batters. 

Base-running  and  sliding  to  bases  was  a  part  of  the 
regular  work.  At  this  the  older  hands  showed  up 
well,  but  some  of  the  new  men  were  very  awkward. 
It  caused  the  coaches  to  howl  when  a  runner  was  told 
to  slide,  and  he  slammed  himself  prone  on  the  ground 
as  if  going  through  to  China  and  slid  about  ten 
inches,  but  they  howled  equally  as  much  at  the  one 
"who  let  himself  down  in  sections,"  his  knees  striking 
first. 

Dade  Morgan  was  making  excellent  showing.  He 
had  a  good  eye  for  the  ball  when  batting,  and  he 
could  sprint  to  first  like  a  deer.  When  it  came  to 
sliding,  he  slipped  over  the  ground  in  an  easy,  grace- 
ful manner  that  was  deserving  of  applause. 

Frank  felt  like  giving  Morgan  a  word  of  praise, 
but  remembering  the  past,  and  not  knowing  just  what 
the  effect  on  Dade  woti1d  be,  he  refrained  from 
doing  so. 

Dick  Starbright,  the  giant  freshman,  was  in  the 
midst  of  the  work,  and  he  went  at  it  with  an  energy 
that  seemed  almost  savage.  A  change  had  come  over 
him.  and  the  good-natured,  pleasant  look  that  had 
seemed  habitual  had  vanished  before  one  of  stern  de- 
termination. 

Indeed,  Dick  was  doing  everything  possible  to  keep 


42  A  Desperate  Enemy. 

his  mind  from  dwelling  on  a  certain  beautiful  dark- 
eyed  girl  whom  he  now  knew  was  lost  to  him.  He 
studied  hard,  worked  hard,  played  hard,  and  in  this 
manner  succeeded  fairly  well  in  his  purpose. 

He  had  read  in  Frank's  happy  face  the  result  of 
the  trip  to  Fardale,  but  it  had  been  exactly  what  he 
expected. 

And  Frank's  talk  with  Hodge  had  seemed  to  trans- 
form Bart,  who  had  been  fretful,  listless,  and  ill- 
natured  before,  failing  to  take  much  interest  in  the 
cage-work  or  seeming  to  care  whether  Yale  put  a 
winning  team  on  the  field  or  not. 

Now  Hodge  went  into  the  work  with  vim  and 
earnestness,  and  he  actually  smiled  occasionally,  which 
was  so  remarkable  that  it  caused  more  than  one  to 
comment  upon  it. 

Defarge  had  seen  Merriwell  talking  to  Mason,  and 
at  the  first  opportunity  the  French  youth  spoke  to  the 
Southerner. 

"Did  you  get  a  calling  down  from  the  high  muck-a- 
muck of  this  combination?"  sneeringly  asked  Bertrand. 

"What  do  you  mean,  sah?"  demanded  Hock. 

"Why,  I  saw  Merriwell  shooting  off  his  mouth  at 
you,  and  I  presume  he  was  telling  you  just  what  sort 
of  a  slouch  you  are,  which  is  a  habit  of  his,  the  ego- 
tistical cad!" 

"No,  sah,  he  was  not  calling  me  down.  He  was 
giving  me  a  few  pointers,  and  I  appreciate  his  kind- 
ness in  doing  so." 

"Well,  you're   just  like  all  the  others,"   growled 


A  Desperate  Enemy.  43 

Defarge.  "He  can  rub  it  all  over  you  and  you'll 
think  it's  nice,  but  you'd  kick  like  a  mule  if  anybody 
else  tried  it." 

"I  may  kick  like  a  mule,  sah,  if  you  are  not  careful 
about  your  language  in  addressing  me,  and  I'll  guar- 
antee that  you'll  be  within  reach  when  I  kick." 

Defarge  showed  his  teeth. 

"If  you  ever  kicked  me  I'd  make  a  hole  in  your  skin 
and  let  some  of  your  confounded  upstart  blood  out!" 
he  hissed. 

"And  if  you  ever  tried  that  trick,"  retorted  Mason, 
not  in  the  least  frightened,  "I'd  forget  that  I've  sworn 
never  to  strike  a  man  who  did  not  weigh  as  much 
as  myself,  and  I'd  give  you  the  blamedest  thrashing, 
sah,  that  you  ever  had  in  all  your  life!" 

"Pouf !"  said  Bertrand,  as  he  wheeled  away. 

"It  really  would  do  me  good  to  thump  him,"  mut- 
tered Mason,  watching  the  fellow's  retreating  figure. 
"I  think  he's  about  the  only  enemy  of  any  account  that 
Merriwell  has  left  in  college." 

Roland  Packard  did  not  occur  to  him  just  then. 
Besides,  Roland  had  been  keeping  pretty  quiet  about 
Merry  since  the  beginning  of  the  term,  realizing  that 
popular  sentiment  was  entirely  against  him. 

The  Chickering  set  was  not  regarded  as  worth 
considering. 

Defarge  could  find  little  consolation  in  his  attempts 
to  deride  and  sneer  at  Merriwell,  and  it  began  to  seem 
to  him  that  all  the  old  enemies  of  Frank  wkh  blood 
in  their  bodies  and  courage  to  take  a  stand  against 


44  A  Desperate  Enemy. 

the  idol  of  Yale  had  given  over  the  struggle  as  worse 
than  useless. 

Thus,  when  the  practise  work  was  over  and  the  men 
were  preparing  for  the  run  into  the  suburbs,  which 
always  followed  cage  training,  Bertrand  sulked  and 
.growled  and  was  disagreeable  to  every  one. 

"I'd  like  to  get  a  good  chance  to  do  up  Merriwell!" 
he  thought;  but  he  remembered  how  all  his  former 
efforts  had  failed  and  brought  disgrace  upon  himself 
in  several  instances,  and  even  his  hating  heart  quailed. 

As  soon  as  the  men  were  ready  they  left  the  gymna- 
sium in  a  body  and  started  at  a  brisk  trot  along  one 
of  the  widest  and  most  comfortable  streets  of  the 
old  city.  The  pace  was  not  made  too  fast  at  first, 
and  yet  it  was  enough  to  keep  them  going  sharply. 

It  was  an  interesting  spectacle  to  see  these  sturdy- 
limbed  youths  start  out  in  a  body,  their  heads  up, 
mouths  closed,  cheeks  flushed  and  nostrils  dilated. 
Surely  a  representative  lot  of  young  Americans  they 
were.  *~ 

Frank  ran  lightly  and  easily,  seeming  to  find  it  no 
effort  at  all  to  get  over  the  ground  at  the  pace  set. 
Hodge  was  beside  him,  and  Jack  Ready  had  swung 
in  with  them.  Ready  still  ran  in  his  own  peculiar 
fashion,  toeing  in  with  his  left  foot,  a  habit  he  had 
been  unable  to  break,  try  as  he  might.  His  cheeks 
were  rosy  and  his  eyes  bright. 

"Ah-ha !"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  trotted  along.  "This 
is  the  kind  of  stuff  that  makes  one  feel  fit  to  tackle  the 
gods !  Yea,  verily !  Why,  just  now  I  believe  I  could 


A  Desperate  Enemy.  45 

give  old  Thor,  the  god  of  thunder,  a  rattling  good 
set-to !" 

"Yet,"  said  Frank,  "we  know  any  amount  of  fel- 
lows in  Yale  who  are  literally  grinding  their  lives  out, 
and  not  one  of  them  has  sense  enough  to  take  sufficient 
exercise  to  preserve  their  health." 

"Which  means  that  a  few  more  fools  will  graduate 
near  the  head  of  their  classes  and  go  out  into  the 
world  with  broken  constitutions.  What  will  they  be 
good  for?" 

"It's  all  right  for  a  man  to  graduate  as  near  the 
head  of  his  class  as  possible,"  Merry  asserted,  "in 
case  he  gives  enough  time  to  exercise  to  keep  his  health 
and  strength;  but  when  he  wears  his  life  away  and 
goes  forth  from  college  a  physical  wreck  he  has  com- 
mitted a  crime.  Not  only  that,  but  he  will  be  pun- 
ished for  his  crime,  and  there  is  no  way  for  him  to 
escape  that  punishment." 

"And  all  the  while  he  doesn't  dream  what  fun  he's 
missing,"  laughed  Jack,  thumping  his  breast  with  his 
clenched  hands.  "Why,  it's  great  just  to  be  living  and 
feel  this  way!  I  could  fly — if  I  had  a  flying-machine." 

"You  have  the  necessary  wheels  in  your  head,"  de- 
clared Merry. 

"But  you'll  never  develop  a  pair  of  wings,"  asserted 
Hodge. 

By  the  time  they  were  well  out  into  the  suburbs  it 
had  begun  to  grow  dark.  They  had  passed  Beaver 
Ponds,  and  were  not  far  from  West  Rock,  before  the 


46  A  Desperate  Enemy. 

leader  swung  to  the  left  by  a  country  road  and  turned 
back  toward  the  city. 

The  men  had  strung  out  behind  for  a  short  distance. 
It  was  impossible  to  tell  if  all  of  them  had  held  out 
and  kept  with  the  squad. 

In  fact,  one  of  them  had  not.  Defarge  had  slowly 
fallen  behind  until  he  was  near  the  rear  of  the  squad, 
and  then,  making  an  excuse  to  tighten  up  his  shoe,  he 
knelt  beside  the  road  and  let  them  go  on  without  him. 

"I  know  the  way  they'll  come  back,"  he  muttered. 
"And  I  know  where  I  can  watch  them  without  being 
seen.  If  Merriwell  would  just  take  a  fancy  to  spurt, 
or  would  get  off  by  himself !  Oh,  yes !  I'd  make  one 
more  try  to  settle  his  hash !" 

Then  he  turned  back,  struck  into  a  cross-lane,  and 
ran  swiftly  through  the  gathering  gloom,  his  heart 
filled  with  black  thoughts  and  evil  designs. 


CHAPTER  V. 

BAFFLED. 

Defarge  crouched  behind  some  rocks  and  bushes 
which  grew  near  the  top  of  a  high  ridge  of  ground. 
Some  distance  below  him,  running  parallel  with  the 
ridge,  was  the  road  along  which  he  knew  the  base- 
ball men  must  come  on  their  way  back  to  town.  It 
was  rather  dark  down  there,  but  the  crouching  youth 
could  see  the  road  when  he  lifted  his  head  and  peered 
down. 

In  his  hands  Defarge  had  a  large,  jagged  rock;  in 
his  heart  was  a  design  so  dark  that  he  dared  not  medi- 
tate upon  it. 

Although  it  was  cold,  he  felt  perspiration  starting 
out  upon  his  face,  which  he  mopped  with  his  handker- 
chief. He  told  himself  that  he  was  justified  in  doing 
anything  in  his  power  to  down  Frank  Merriwell,  for 
had  not  Merry  once  brought  about  his  disgrace  and 
nearly  caused  his  expulsion  from  college? 

He  did  not  pause  to  consider  that  it  was  through 
Frank's  generosity  alone  that  he  still  remained  at  Yale. 
Had  he  reasoned  calmly  he  must  have  known  that  any 
other  man  might  have  exposed  him  fully  and  com- 
pelled him  to  leave. 

Hark!  They  were  coming!  He  heard  the  beat  of 
running  feet  far  along  the  frozen  road.  It  was  likelv 


48  Baffled. 

that  Merriwell  would  be  among-  the  very  first,  for  of 
old  Frank  had  often  led  the  squad  on  the  return  trip 
to  the  gym. 

The  crouching  lad  quivered  in  every  limb. 

"He  disgraced  me  before  them  all!"  he  panted. 
He  made  me  the  laughing-stock  of  the  college!  No 
man  can  do  that  to  a  Def arge  and  escape !  I've  waited 
a  long  time,  but  I'm  going  to  fix  him  now!" 

He  gripped  the  jagged  rock  with  feverish  intensity 
and  peered  along  the  darkening  road.  The  sound  of 
running  feet  came  nearer. 

"Hello,  Merriwell!" 

Some  one  of  the  runners  was  hailing  Frank. 

"Hello!"  sounded  still  clearer  in  the  unmistakable 
voice  of  the  captain  of  the  nine. 

"Take  the  Blake  road." 

"All  right." 

"Merriwell  is  leading,  as  usual!"  panted  Defarge. 
"Here  he  comes !" 

A  dark  figure  was  coming  swiftly  down  the  dusky 
road.  With  the  stone  in  both  hands,  Defarge  crouched 
and  watched,  every  muscle  taut,  every  nerve  quivering. 

"He's  some  rods  ahead  of  the  next  man,"  he 
thought.  "He's  played  right  into  my  hands." 

The  figure  was  plainly  that  of  Merriwell.  Defarge 
straightened  a  little  and  lifted  the  stone.  In  a  moment 
the  unconscious  young  athlete  would  be  directly  be- 
neath the  revengeful  scoundrel  on  the  ridge. 

"Now !"    Defarge  panted  the  word  as  he  swung  the 


Baffled.  49 

stone  over  his  head  with  both  hands,  and  hurled  it  with 
murderous  aim  straight  at  the  head  of  Merriwell. 

There  was  a  thud,  and  he  saw  Frank  go  down  and 
lay  outstretched  upon  the  ground. 

"I've  done  it!    I've  done  it!" 

With  that  awful  thought  filling  his  heart,  the  wretch 
crouched  behind  the  bushes  and  ran  quickly  back  along 
the  ridge,  passing  over  it  and  disappearing. 

Hidden  from  view,  he  ran  as  swiftly  as  he  could 
back  along  the  course  of  the  road  down  which  the  base- 
ball men  had  come.  Pretty  soon  the  ridge  sunk  and 
he  was  in  a  piece  of  thin  timber,  through  which  he 
pressed  till  he  came  to  the  road  itself. 

He  halted  amid  some  trees  to  let  several  men  pass, 
and  then  he  sprang  out  into  the  road  and  started  along 
in  the  same  direction  as  if  he  had  been  in  the  proces- 
sion all  the  time. 

"Now  let  any  one  prove  that  I  did  it!"  he  laughed 
to  himself.  "I  took  nobody  into  my  confidence,  and 
there  is  no  proof  against  me.  It's  a  job  well  done." 

As  he  approached  the  spot  he  was  not  surprised  to 
find  the  men  ahead  of  him  had  stopped  and  were  gath- 
ered in  a  group. 

"They'll  take  him  in  on  a  stretcher,"  thought  De- 
farge. 

He  came  up,  breathing  heavily,  as  if  he  had  been 
running  all  the  while. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  asked,  as  he  approached. 
"Anybody  hurt?" 


50  Baffled. 

"Hello,  Defarge,"  said  one  of  the  men.  "You've 
made  good  time  to-day.  You're  usually  a  tail-ender." 

"Anybody  hurt  ?"  persisted  Bertrand,  coming  up  and 
stopping.  "What  has  hapened?" 

"Oh,  nothing  much,"  was  the  answer.  "Merriwell's 
got  a  nasty  fall,  that's  all." 

"That  is  not  all!"  declared  a  voice  that  caused  De- 
farge's  heart  to  stand  still,  for  it  was  that  of  Frank 
Merriwell  himself.  "My  fall  was  nothing,  but  I'd  like 
to  know  where  this  huge  stone  came  from,  for  I  know 
it  whizzed  past  my  head  just  as  I  tripped  and  went 
down." 

Beneath  his  breath  Defarge  muttered  an  oath. 

Frank  was  absolutely  unharmed,  for,  being  in  per- 
fect condition,  the  shock  of  the  fall  over  a  stone  which 
he  had  not  seen  in  the  road  affected  him  to  no  percep- 
tible extent. 

Indeed,  when  a  man  is  in  the  best  physical  condition, 
ordinary  falls,  that  seem  to  jar  and  severely  injure  the 
untrained,  are  not  noticed  at  all.  Sometimes  a  naan 
may,  in  perfect  condition,  receive  shocks  and  sustain 
falls  which  naturally  would  break  the  bones  of  the  un- 
prepared and  still  escape  without  any  apparent  harm. 

Thus  it  is  that  exercise,  physical  training,  and 
muscle-building  prepare  those  who  follow  faithfully 
the  upbuilding  of  the  body  for  all  the  hardships  they 
may  have  to  encounter  in  life. 

"The  survival  of  the  fittest"  is  a  law  of  nature  that 
Eas  been  in  full  sway  since  the  dawn  of  creation,  and 


Baffled.  51 

modern  conditions  have  simply  seemed  to  emphasize  its 
unyielding  rigidness. 

A  weakling  might  have  been  severely,  even  fatally, 
injured  by  the  fall  that  had  not  harmed  Merriwell  at 
all. 

Sometimes  men  die  from  the  effects  of  shocks  which 
trained  athletes  would  have  withstood  without  great 
distress. 

Thousands  of  weak-backed,  narrow-chested,  scraw- 
ny-necked men  are  swiftly  wearing  away  their  lives  in 
offices  and  stores  and  other  places  of  business  when, 
had  they  known  and  respected  the  laws  of  health,  they 
might  be  strong,  and  robust,  and  healthy. 

They  will  stand  up  to  their  tasks  as  long  as  the 
candle  of  life  flickers  and  flares  in  their  wrecked  bodies, 
but  one  by  one  they  will  lie  down  and  die  long  before 
there  is  any  need  of  it,  had  they  paid  the  slightest  at- 
tention to  the  demands  of  nature. 

Frank  Merriwell  had  not  been  born  strong  and 
healthy.  His  mother  was  an  invalid,  and  he  had  in- 
herited a  weak  body.  But,  fortunately,  he  had  been 
given  brains  with  which  to  think  and  reason.  And 
he  had  used  those  brains!  That  was  the  best  part 
of  it. 

Having  found  that  others  had  acquired  health  by 
exercise  and  by  obeying  the  laws  of  nature,  he  had 
made  a  resolve  to  do  the  same.  He  was  stubborn,  and, 
having  made  such  a  resolve,  he  kept  at  the  work  day 
after  day,  week  after  week,  year  after  year. 

What  a  glorious  reward  was  his!     From  a  weak 


52  Baffled. 

boy  he  had  become  a  strong,  supple,  superb  youth,  a 
typical  young  American  of  the  very  highest  class,  and 
all  by  his  own  efforts !  Was  not  the  reward  sufficient 
for  the  effort? 

It  had  not  always  been  by  chance,  as  on  this  occa- 
sion, that  his  enemies  had  failed  to  wreak  upon  him  the 
injuries  they  sought  to  inflict.  Had  he  been  weak  they 
must  have  succeeded  many  times.  But  one  by  one  they 
had  fallen  before  him,  and  he  remained  triumphant  and 
unharmed. 

"The  fellow  bears  a  charmed  life,"  thought  Ber- 
trand  Defarge.  "It's  no  use — he  can't  be  harmed !" 

Once  more  he  felt  for  his  handkerchief  to  wipe  from 
his  face  the  beads  of  cold  perspiration  that  started 
forth ;  but  the  handkerchief  was  not  in  the  pocket 
where  he  fancied  he  had  thrust  it. 

"Where  could  the  stone  have  come  from?"  Bert 
Dashleigh  was  asking.  "You  don't  suppose " 

"Hello,  Defarge !"  exclaimed  one  of  a  little  bunch  of 
men  that  came  up.  "How  the  dickens  did  you  get 
ahead  of  us?  We  thought  you  behind  with  the  tail- 
enders." 

"What's  the  matter  here?"  asked  another,  and,  to 
Bertrand's  relief,  they  all  pressed  forward  to  learn 
what  had  happened. 

That  saved  Defarge  from  answering  an  unpleasant 
question  and  explaining  how  he  came  to  be  ahead  of 
those  men. 

But  Bart  Hodge  had  heard  the  question  and  had 
noted  that  no  answer  was  given. 


Baffled  53 

When  the  men  started  on  again,  Bart  was  at  Merry's 
side.  He  soon  found  an  opportunity  to  say,  using  a 
guarded  tone: 

"You  still  have  some  enemies,  Frank — or  an  en- 
emy, at  least." 

"Then  you  think " 

"Of  course !  Somebody  tried  to  knock  your  brains 
out  with  that  stone." 

"I  don't  like  to  think  that,"  declared  Frank.  "And 
yet " 

"You  can't  help  it.  Your  enemies  have  been  chirp- 
ing mighty  soft  of  late,  but  it  was  because  they  didn't 
dare  sing  louder.  They  are  not  all  dead,  or  converted. 
Where  is  Morgan?" 

"Somewhere  on  the  road.  You  know  I  have  that 
fellow's  pledge." 

"Which  doesn't  amount  to  shucks!" 

"But  his  uncle  is  dead,  and  there  is  no  further  rea- 
son why  he  should  try  to  injure  me." 

"Don't  fool  yourself  I  He's  ambitious  and  proud. 
He  wants  to  pitch  this  spring,  and  it  is  his  way  to  long 
to  be  cock  of  the  walk  at  anything  he  tries.  He  knows 
he  can't  be  that  with  you  on  the  team." 

"But  he  could  not  have  possibly  done  the  trick; 
lie  did  not  throw  that  stone." 

"I  don't  say  he  did." 

"Then  what " 

"He  is  a  fellow  to  use  accomplices." 

Frank  shook  his  head. 

"I  know  all  about  your  hatred  for  Morgan,"  he 


54  Baffled. 

said,  "and  I  confess  the  justness  of  it;  but  something 
tells  me  the  fellow  did  not  do  this  trick,  or  know  any- 
thing about  it.  In  fact,  even  though  he  may  not  love 
me,  I  do  not  believe  he  will  make  any  further  attempts 
to  harm  me.  While  Santenel  lived  he  held  Morgan 
under  his  hypnotic  influence  and  made  him  do  some 
very  nasty  things.  But  Santenel  is  dead." 

"Well,  Morgan  still  lives,  and  you'll  see  that  you 
will  have  your  troubles  just  as  long  as  he  remains  in 
college." 

Frank  knew  how  useless  it  was  to  try  to  reason 
Bart  out  of  a  conviction  so  firmly  implanted  in  his 
mind,  and  so  he  made  no  further  effort. 

Along  the  hard  road  they  sped,  their  lungs  filled 
with  fresh  air,  their  entire  bodies  tingling  with  the 
intoxication  of  perfect  health. 

Ahead  of  them  gleamed  the  city's  lights.  On  either 
side  lights  shone  from  the  windows  of  houses. 

They  strung  out  on  Whalley  Avenue,  for  now  they 
were  permitted  to  speed  up  some  as  the  end  of  the  run 
drew  near.  At  last  they  came  to  Elm  Street  and  the 

gym- 
There  the  men  were  given  cold  showers,  and  rubbed 

down  with  rough  towels,  till  their  bodies  glowed  like 

furnaces. 

When  they  left  the  gym  they  felt  "like  righting 

cocks,"   for  all   of   what  they  had  done   and  gone 

through. 

Frank  and  Bart  left  the  gym  together. 


Baffled.  55 

"Are  you  going  to  your  room,  Hodge?"  asked 
Merry. 

"Not  now,"  was  the  answer. 

"Well,  come  up  to  mine.  I've  got  to  work  hard  to- 
night, but  we  can  have  a  little  chat  of  a  few  minutes 
before  I  get  down  to  grinding." 

"I've  got  to  go  somewhere  else.  I'll  see  you  to-mor- 
row, Merry.  So-long." 

Frank  wondered  as  Bart  swung  away.  He  would 
have  wondered  still  more  had  he  observed  where 
Hodge  went  and  what  he  did. 

Direct  to  a  certain  store  the  dark-eyed  lad  proceeded, 
and  there  he  purchased  a  lantern,  which  he  had  filled 
with  oil  and  prepared  for  lighting.  With  this  lantern 
he  struck  out  at  a  brisk  walk,  avoiding  the  vicinity  of 
the  college  buildings. 

More  than  half  an  hour  later  Bart  was  searching 
along  the  ridge  of  high  land  near  where  Merriwell  had 
fallen  on  the  road.  The  lighted  lantern  aided  him  in 
his  search  behind  the  mass  of  evergreen  bushes. 

He  came  to  a  place  that  interested  him  very  much, 
for  there  was  every  indication  that  some  one  had  been 
there  ahead  of  him. 

Then  he  uttered  a  low  cry  of  satisfaction,  and  sud- 
denly snatched  something  from  the  ground. 

It  was  a  handkerchief! 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   FIGHT   WITH   RAPIERS. 

Defarge  had  roomed  alone  ever  since  entering  col- 
lege. He  was  so  exceedingly  unpopular  that  it  would 
have  been  difficult  for  him  to  find  a  roommate  had  he 
desired  one;  but  he  declared  that  on  no  condition 
would  he  share  his  apartments  with  another. 

His  rooms  were  well  furnished  and  comfortable,  but 
he  cared  little  about  their  arrangement  or  decorations, 
and  about  them  there  was  not  a  single  thing  in  the  way 
of  ornament  that  would  suggest  to  a  casual  visitor  that 
a  Yale  man  slept  and  studied  there. 

In  other  rooms  were  flags,  badges,  blue  ribbons,  and 
a  hundred  other  things  gathered  by  the  students  as  to- 
kens to  remind  them  of  something  connected  with  their 
college-life.  When  they  visited  home  at  holidays  they 
took  some  of  these  things  along  to  give  brothers  or 
sisters,  who  treasured  them  with  pride. 

But  it  is  probable  that  Defarge  felt  none  of  that  love 
for  Yale  that  seems  to  imbue  almost  every  man  among 
the  great  throng  of  students.  It  is  even  possible,  as- 
tounding though  it  may  seem  to  every  other  Yale  man 
— that  he  would  have  been  quite  as  well  satisfied  had  it 
been  his  fortune  to  attend  Harvard,  or  any  other  col- 
lege. He  had  failed  totally  and  entirely  to  imbibe  the 
"Yale  spirit." 


The  Fight  With  Rapiers.  57 

Personal  conquest  and  advancement  had  been  all  the 
French  youth  seemed  to  care  for,  and  his  utter  selfish- 
ness made  him  offensive  to  those  who  might  have  re- 
garded him  in  a  friendly  spirit  because  of  similar  likes 
and  dislikes. 

He  had  regarded  himself  as  a  wonderful  fencer,  and, 
indeed,  his  skill  was  most  commendable.  He  found 
little  difficulty  in  defeating  all  comers  until  he  encoun- 
tered Merriwell,  upon  whom  by  sneers  and  insults  he 
forced  an  engagement. 

Merriwell,  however,  had  studied  fencing  under  a 
past  master  of  the  art,  and  the  French  youth  was  easily 
defeated  by  the  representative  American,  which  filled 
him  with  unspeakable  shame  and  chagrin. 

His  defeat  caused  Defarge  to  lose  his  head  entirely, 
and  he  took  to  drink  without  delay.  That  very  night, 
while  in  a  state  of  insane  intoxication,  he  attempted  to 
strike  Frank  in  the  back  with  an  open  knife.  Fortu- 
nately, Frank  saw  him  in  a  mirror  and  was  able  to  turn 
and  grapple  with  him. 

Then  followed  something  that  astonished  all  who 
witnessed  it,  for,  looking  straight  into  the  eyes  of  the 
intoxicated  youth,  Frank  caused  him  to  quail  and  be- 
come as  harmless  as  a  lamb. 

In  that  moment  Frank  discovered  that  he  possessed 
a  strange  power,  and  this  power  he  had  been  called 
upon  to  use  many  times  afterward.  Once,  at  least,  it 
had  saved  his  life.  Once  it  saved  the  life  of  his  father. 

But  although  Merriwell  had  declared  that  he  might 
make  a  friend  of  Defarge,  the  French  youth  remained 


58  The  Fight  With  Rapiers. 

his  bitter  and  unyielding  enemy.  For  a  time  he  had 
avoided  Frank,  but  now,  Merriwell  having  been  away 
from  college  a  while,  he  ventured  to  strike  again. 

Alone  in  his  room  that  evening,  Bertrand  cursed  the 
luck  that  had  permitted  him  to  fail  in  accomplishing 
his  terrible  intention.  And  while  he  was  cursing,  the 
door  opened  to  admit  Bart  Hodge ! 

Defarge  stared  in  astonishment.  Never  before  had 
such  an  amazing  thing  occurred  and  he  could  not  un-r 
derstand  it  now.  He  wondered  if  Hodge  had  by  acci- 
dent wandered  into  the  wrong  room. 

But  Bart  deliberately  closed  the  door  behind  him. 
There  was  a  key  in  the  lock.  This  key  Hodge  turned, 
after  which  he  removed  it,  and  quietly  put  it  into  his 
pocket. 

"What  the  deuce  are  you  doing?"  cried  Defarge, 
who  was  now  on  his  feet. 

Bart  advanced,  his  eyes  fixed  on  those  of  Bertrand. 

"I've  called  to  see  you,"  said  Frank  Merriwell's  bo- 
som friend,  in  a  peculiar  tone  of  voice. 

"You  locked  that  door?" 

"Yes." 

"Why?" 

"So  it  would  not  blow  open,"  answered  Hodge,  in 
the  same  queer  way. 

"Blow  open !  Why,  there's  no  danger  of  that !  Are 
you  crazy?" 

"I  don't  think  so,  but  I'm  mad." 

There  was  a  sort  of  grim,  mirthless  humor  about 
that  made  Defarge  uneasy. 


The  Fight  With  Rapiers.  59 

"You  have  no  right  to  lock  my  door  and  put  the  key 
in  your  pocket !"  snarled  the  French  youth. 

"That  may  be  true,  but  I've  done  it.  I  want  to  have 
a  little  talk  with  you,  and  I  do  not  propose  to  have  that 
talk  interrupted,  even  though  you  may  get  noisy  and 
yell  for  assistance." 

There  was  a  threat  in  this,  and  Defarge  retreated  be- 
hind the  table  that  stood  in  the  center  of  the  room. 

"What's  your  game?"  he  demanded.  "Are  you  play- 
ing the  highwayman  or  the  house-robber?" 

"Thank  you ;  I  do  not  travel  with  your  class  in  so- 
ciety." 

Still  there  was  a  look  in  Bart's  eyes  that  made  De- 
farge think  himself  in  danger.  Usually,  Hodge  was 
excitable,  but  now  he  seemed  strangely  cool,  which 
gave  him  an  air  of  menace. 

Defarge  glanced  quickly  round  in  search  of  some 
weapon  with  which  to  defend  himself. 

"Sit  down !"  commanded  Hodge.  "It  won't  do  you 
a  bit  of  good  to  raise  a  rumpus." 

"Now,  what  in  the  name  of  the  Old  Harry  do  you 
want  ?"  panted  Bertrand,  beginning  to  get  angry  him- 
self. 

"I  have  a  few  questions  to  ask  you." 

"Well,  go  ahead.    I'll  answer  them  or  not,  as  I  like." 

"You'll  answer  them  before  I  leave  this  room!  In 
the  first  place,  how  did  you  happen  during  the  run 
after  the  cage  practise  to  take  the  short  cut  through 
Beaver  Pond  Lane  from  Crescent  Street  to  Fitch 
Street?" 


60  The  Fight  With  Rapiers. 

The  French  youth  had  flushed,  but  now  he  suddenly 
became  pale. 

"I  did  nothing  of  the  kind !"  he  declared. 

"You  are  a  liar!"  said  Hodge,  without  lifting  his 
voice,  still  keeping  his  eyes  fastened  straight  on  those 
of  the  lad  across  the  table. 

Bertrand's  bosom  heaved  and  his  lips  curled  back 
from  his  teeth,  which  gleamed  white  and  wolfish. 

"You  shall  answer  for  the  insult!"  panted  Defarge. 

"With  pleasure,"  was  the  grim  retort.  "I  think  you 
must  know  by  this  time  that  I  take  special  delight  in 
thumping  you." 

"I'll  not  fight  you  that  common  way!  You  have 
not  the  skill  of  Merriwell,  and  you  must  meet  me  with 
rapiers !" 

"Hardly,"  said  Bart.    "I  know  better  than  that." 

"You  can't  avoid  it." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  can!" 

"You  shall  not!    I  will  force  you  into  it!" 

"And  I  shall  insist  on  meeting  you  with  the  weapons 
provided  for  us  by  nature,  our  fists." 

"Do  you  think  I  could  be  satisfied  that  way  for  such 
an  insult  ?  No !  You  have  come  here  to  force  a  quar- 
rel upon  me !  I  see  that !" 

"Nothing  of  the  sort.  I've  come  here  to  compel  you 
to  tell  the  truth,  and,  by  Heaven!  I'm  going  to  make 
you  do  it!" 

"You  can  never  force  me  to  anything!  You  want 
the  fight,  and  you  shall  have  it !  I  will  let  out  some  of 
vour  nasty  American  blood !  I  may  kill  you !" 


The  Fight  With  Rapiers.  61 

Then,  with  a  pantherlike  leap,  Defarge  reached  the 
wall  against  which  hung  a  pair  of  crossed  rapiers. 
Quick  as  a  flash,  he  grasped  them  and  tore  them  down, 
whirling  them  in  his  hands.  Seizing  the  hilt  of  one, 
he  flung  the  other  with  a  clanging  sound  at  Bart's  feet, 
shouting : 

"Take  it  and  fight  for  your  life,  you  American  pig, 
for  I  swear  I'll  run  you  through  without  mercy  if  you 
don't!" 

Bart  Hodge  was  a  fighter  without  a  drop  of  cow- 
ardly blood  in  his  well-developed  body ;  but  he  had  seen 
Defarge  handle  a  rapier,  and  he  knew  he  was  not  the 
equal  of  the  wily  French  youth  m  that  particular  line. 
He  could  handle  his  fists,  or  shoot  a  pistol  with  great 
skill ;  but  he  was  not  an  expert  fencer,  and  so  would 
be  at  a  disadvantage  in  an  encounter  of  this  sort. 

But  it  was  useless  to  admit  this  to  Defarge,  whose 
eyes  were  glaring.  Defarge  would  laugh  exultantly 
and  come  on.  Indeed,  he  was  making  ready  to  attack 
even  now. 

"Pick  up  the  weapon!"  commanded  the  French 
youth.  "Do  your  best,  for  I'm  going  to  pink  you — 
I  swear  I  am!" 

Bertrand's  heart  was  full  of  mad  joy,  for  he  believed 
his  opportunity  to  obtain  revenge  on  Hodge  for  past 
grievances  had  come,  and  he  meant  to  make  the  most 
of  it.  Laughing  savagely,  he  started  to  advance. 

Hodge's  hand  rested  on  the  back  of  a  chair,  and  he 
had  not  altered  his  position  when  the  other  youth 
sprang  to  the  wall  and  tore  down  the  rapiers. 


62  The  Fight  With  Rapiers. 

Now,  without  the  least  warning  and  with  such 
strength  and  quickness  as  only  a  trained  athlete  could 
command,  he  grasped  the  chair  with  both  hands, 
swung  it  aloftt  and  hurled  it  straight  at  Bertrand's 
head. 

Defarge  had  no  time  to  dodge,  but  he  put  up  his  arm 
to  protect  his  face,  and  the  chair  sent  him  reeling 
against  the  wall.  Hodge  followed  the  chair  with  two 
swift  bounds,  and  was  on  the  French  youth  instantly. 

He  grasped  Bertrand's  right  wrist  with  one  hand 
and  his  throat  with  the  other,  pinning  the  fellow 
against  the  wall  and  holding  him  there. 

"You  devil's  whelp!"  grated  Hodge.  "You  would 
not  hesitate  at  murder!  I'll  guarantee  that  you  land 
in  prison  yet!" 

Defarge  had  been  shocked  by  the  impact  of  the  chair, 
and  for  a  few  seconds  he  seemed  quite  helpless  and 
unresisting.  Then  he  suddenly  gathered  himself  and 
tried  to  hurl  Bart  off. 

Hodge  kept  his  hold,  attempting  to  twist  the  fellow's 
wrist,  and  thus  force  him  to  drop  the  rapier.  But  Ber- 
trand's hold  was  not  broken  thus  easily,  and  with  his 
left  hand  he  tore  Bart's  fingers  from  his  throat. 

"Dog!"  he  huskily  hissed.  "Throw  a  chair  at  me, 
will  you  ?  Now  I  am  going  to  fix  you !" 

Then  the  struggle  for  the  possession  of  the  rapier 
began,  Defarge  doing  his  best  to  cast  Bart  away  long 
enough  to  lift  and  thrust  with  the  weapon. 

Bart  knew  it  was  a  fight  for  his  very  life,  as  the 
French  youth  was  wrought  to  a  pitch  of  rage  that 


The  Fight  With  Rapiers.  63 

robbed  him  entirely  of  his  reason.  There  was  a  ter- 
rible glare  in  his  eyes.  His  teeth  were  set  and  a  white 
froth  began  to  form  on  his  parted  lips. 

With  all  his  strength  he  strove  to  twist  away  from 
Bart's  grip,  but  Hodge  held  fast. 

"Steady  I"  Bart  growled.    "You  can't  do  it !" 

"I  will !  I  will !"  panted  Defarge.    "I'll  kill  you !" 

"You  may  find  that  I'm  quite  as  hard  to  kill  as 
Frank  Merriwell." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"You  know  what  I  mean !" 

"You  lie!  You  came  here  to  insult  m^  and  make 
'lying  charges  against  me.  You  shall  pay  for  it!" 

Again  Defarge  gave  a  mighty  twist  and  tried  to 
fling  Hodge  off.  They  reeled  against  a  chair,  which 
was  overturned.  Then  Bart's  feet  struck  against  the 
chair,  and  he  fell  backward  to  the  floor,  his  grip  on 
Defarge's  wrist  being  broken  as  he  went  down. 

Down  upon  Hodge  came  his  antagonist,  but  he  tore 
himself  away  from  the  fingers  that  tried  to  clutch  and 
hold  him.  With  a  quick  spring,  Bertrand  rose  to  his 
feet  and  stood  over  Hodge  with  the  rapier  uplifted. 

"Now !"  he  hissed,  with  a  savage  laugh — "now  you 
get  it  for  fair !" 

Then  he  lunged  as  if  meaning  to  pin  Hodge  to  the 
floor. 

With  a  squirming  movement  to  one  side,  Bart  barely 
avoided  being  run  through  by  the  blade. 

"A  miss  is  as  good  as  a  mile!"  he  thought,  and  at 
the  same  time  he  again  cast  the  chair  at  Defarge. 


64  The  Fight  With  Rapiers. 

Bertrand's  legs  were  struck  and  he  was  confused 
and  disconcerted  for  a  moment,  and  that  was  enough 
to  give  Bart  time  to  spring  up. 

As  he  rose,  Hodge  had  the  other  rapier  gripped  in 
his  hand.  At  last  he  realized  that  there  was  no  way 
to  avoid  such  an  encounter,  and  so  he  hurled  himself 
into  it  with  the  furious  energy  of  a  creature  at  bay. 

Clash !  clash !  rang  out  the  meeting  blades. 

Probably  no  stranger  encounter  ever  occurred  at 
Yale  than  this  night  battle  between  two  students  armed 
with  deadly  rapiers.  The  expressions  on  their  faces 
told  that  the  struggle  was  of  the  most  serious  nature. 

This  was  no  mere  fencing-bout  for  sport.  On  one 
side,  at  least,  it  was  a  duel  with  the  most  deadly  im- 
port. 

But  Defarge  had  been  astounded  by  the  escape  of 
Hodge  from  that  thrust.  The  crack  of  the  chair 
against  his  knees  had  confused  him.  And  then  he  was 
dazed  when  Bart  leaped  up  like  a  supple  panther,  grip- 
ping the  rapier,  and  attacked  him  with  the  gleaming 
blade. 

The  fierceness  of  Bart's  assault  was  something  im- 
possible to  withstand  long. 

Sparks  flew  from  the  meeting  weapons,  which 
gleamed  and  flashed  and  hissed  through  the  air. 

The  look  on  the  face  of  Bart  Hodge  was  one  of -such 
furious  determination  that  the  French  youth  involun- 
tarily gave  way  before  him. 

"You  would  have  it,  you  devil's  whelp!"  came 
through  Bart's  teeth.  "Stand  up  and  fight !  You 


The  Fight  With  Rapiers.  65 

forced  it  on  me,  now  make  good — or  take  the  conse- 
quences !" 

With  a  twisting  stroke,  Bart  had  torn  the  weapon 
from  the  hand  of  his  adversary  and  sent  it  spinning 
in  a  far  corner,  where  it  fell  rattling  to  the  floor. 

The  next  instant,  with  his  left  hand,  Frank  Merri- 
well's  friend  and  champion  seized  the  unarmed  youth 
by  the  throat  and  hurled  him  backward  upon  the  table 
that  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room.. 

As  Defarge  lay  there  helpless  and  terrified,  Bart 
stood  over  him,  his  gleaming  rapier  raised  as  if  to 
make  the  final  and  fatal  thrust  of  this  most  remarkable 
encounter. 

The  helpless  youth  turned  chalky  white  with  fear. 

"Don't  strike !"  he  gasped. 

"Why  not  ?"  demanded  the  other,  quivering  with  the 
excitement  of  the  encounter. 

"You'll  kill  me!" 

"Just  as  you  tried  to  kill  me  when  I  lay  on  the  floor 
helpless  and  unarmed,  you  cowardly  sneak!" 

"I  didn't  mean  to " 

"Don't  lie!  If  you  lie,  I'll  be  tempted  to  finish  you 
off  anyhow!" 

"I  was  crazy!" 

"Well,  I'm  rather  excited  myself!  Why,  it  would 
be  a  mercy  to  puncture  you  now!  You  are  a  miser- 
able, crawling  snake,  and  you've  tried  to  kill  the  best 
man  that  ever  lived !" 

"No!  no!" 


66  The  Fight  With  Rapiers. 

"Don't  lie,  I  say!  You  tried  to  kill  Merriwell  this 
day!" 

"I  did  not!" 

The  look  of  fury  on  Bart's  face  seemed  to  become 
more  intense. 

"The  truth  is  the  only  thing  that  can  save  your 
worthless  life  now !"  he  panted. 

"I  shall  shout  for  help!" 

"That  won't  save  you!  No  one  could  reach  you  in 
time.  If  you  shout,  I  swear  by  my  life  I'll  stick  you 
once  for  luck !" 

There  could  be  no  doubt  concerning  Bart's  sincerity 
in  this  threat,  and  Defarge  decided  not  to  shout. 

"Confess  that  you  tried  to  kill  Merriwell  to-day  with 
a  stone,  which  you  threw  at  his  head." 

"I'll  not  confess  to  a  lie — not  even  to  save  my  life !" 

"But  you  must  confess  the  truth.  You  cannot  help 
it.  I  have  the  proof  against  you." 

"The  proof?" 

"Yes." 

"Where?" 

"Here!" 

With  his  left  hand,  Hodge  took  out  and  held  up  be- 
fore Bertrand's  staring  eyes  the  handkerchief  he  had 
found  that  night  with  the  aid  of  the  lantern. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE   FALSE   CONFESSION. 

"What  is  it  ?" 

"Your  handkerchief." 

"Where  did  you  get  it?" 

"I  found  it.  See,  here  are  your  initials  on  tfie  cor- 
ner. I  have  been  to  the  laundry  where  you  take  your 
linen,  and  there  I  compared  this  with  one  of  your 
handkerchiefs  in  the  place.  It  is  your  mark,  and  you 
cannot  dispute  it." 

"Well,  let  me  up.  What  if  I  do  not  dispute  it? 
What  about  that?" 

"It  proves  beyond  a  doubt  that  you  threw  the  stone 
at  Merriwell  with  deadly  intent,  for  I  found  it  on  the 
spot  where  you  stood  when  you  did  the  trick,  just  be- 
hind the  bushes  on  that  high  ridge  beside  the  road." 

Something  like  a  mumbled  curse  came  from  Ber- 
trand's  lips. 

"Let  me  up,"  he  begged. 

"Will  you  confess?" 

"How  can  I  confess  down  here  this  way?  Let  me 
up." 

"All  right,  but  you  must  sit  down  beside  the  table 
here  and  sign  a  written  confession.  If  you  try  any 
tricks,  I  shall  prick  you  a  little  with  this  sticker.  If 
you  know  much  about  me,  you  realize  now  that  I  mean 


68  The  False  Confession. 

business  and  I'll  make  good  every  threat.  If  you  were 
harmed  and  made  charges  against  me  I  should 
swear  that  you  attacked  me  with  murderous  intent 
after  I  carne  here  and  accused  you,  and  that  I 
did  the  trick  in  self-defense.  Even  if  you  were  able 
to  swear  to  the  contrary,  which  is  not  likely  after  I 
jabbed  you  with  this  dainty  tool,  my  word  would  be 
as  good  as  yours.  Now,  get  up — and  sit  down  there !" 

Hodge  stood  with  the  weapon  held  ready  for  instant 
use,  and  Defarge,  like  a  whipped  child,  meekly  obeyed. 

"That's  right,"  nodded  the  victor,  with  satisfaction. 
"Now,  don't  dare  to  wriggle,  for  if  you  try  to  get  hold 
of  that  sticker  over  in  the  corner  I'll  be  on  top  of  you 
like  a  catamount,  and  I'll  finish  the  job  instanter." 

Then  Bart  stepped  over  to  a  desk,  still  keeping 
nearer  than  Defarge  to  the  weapon  in  the  distant  cor- 
ner, and  brought  over  an  ink-well  and  writing-mate- 
rials 

"What  do  you  think  you  can  make  me  do  ?"  asked 
Defarge,  with  a  sneer. 

"You  are  going  to  write  out  and  sign  a  confession." 

"Why  should  I?" 

"Because  you  must.  Now  I  know  the  whole  busi- 
ness, and  you  can't  deceive  me  by  making  any  false 
statements.  I  know  who  was  behind  you  in  what  you 
did — who  £Ot  you  to  do  the  trick." 

Defarge  was  silent,  filled  with  surprise. 

"Don't  try  to  shield  that  snake,"  urged  Bart.  "It 
will  be  better  for  you  if  you  do  not.  You  may  claim 


The  False  Confession.  69 

that  he  hypnotized  you,  or  anything  you  like,  but  you 
must  confess  that  he  was  behind  you  in  what  you  did." 

"Who?"  asked  Bertrand. 

"Why,  Morgan,  of  course!  Didn't  he  suggest  this 
piece  of  business  ?  Own  up !" 

The  French  .youth  caught  his  breath  and  then  said : 

"Yes!" 

"I  knew  it!"  cried  Bart  exultantly.  "I  saw  him 
speak  to  you  in  the  cage!  I  knew  something  was  up 
then." 

A  sudden  idea  had  taken  possession  of  Defarge.  He 
felt  that  he  was  caught  in  the  net,  and  he  would  not  go 
down  without  pulling  Morgan  with  him.  He  had 
gradually  learned  to  dislike  Dade  almost  as  much  as  he 
did  Frank  Merriwell.  Of  late  it  had  been  impossible 
for  him  to  interest  Dade  in  his  crooked  schemes  and 
tricks,  which  had  brought  about  the  strong  dislike  he 
now  harbored. 

"But  you  don't  know  the  kind  of  fellow  Morgan 
is,"  declared  Defarge.  "Oh,  those  eyes  of  his!  They 
have  such  an  influence  over  me!" 

"His  uncle  was  a  hypnotist !" 

"He  must  have  hypnotized  me,  for  I  made  a  pledge 
that  I'd  never  lift  my  hand  against  Merriwell  again, 
yet,  when  he  ordered  me  to  do  so,  I  could  not  refuse." 

Bart's  heart  was  throbbing  wildly. 

"It's  just  as/ 1  thought !"  he  declared,  feeling  almost 
friendly  toward  Defarge  for  this  statement.  "But 
there's  only  one  way  for  me  to  prove  it  against  him." 

"I  can't  make  a  charge  against  him — I  can't !" 


7O  The  False  Confession. 

"You  must!" 

"If  he  is  present,  it  will  be  impossible.  He'll  throw 
his  power  over  me,  and  I'll  be  helpless  to  tell  the 
truth." 

"You  shall  do  it  here  and  now !" 

"Please  don't  make  me  do  that!  It  will  ruin  me! 
I  shall  be  expelled  from  college,  and  all  on  account  of 
Morgan !  Think  of  that !  I  could  not  help  doing  what 
he  told  me  to  do.  If  he  were  not  here  I'd  never  think 
of  harming  Merriwell.  I  know  I  did  try  to  do  so  long 
ago,  but  he  was  generous  to  me,  and  I  vowed  never  to 
lift  my  hand  against  him  again." 

Hodge  was  silent  a  moment,  and  then  he  said : 

"Merriwell  is  always  generous,  you  know.  I  might 
kick  you  both  out  of  Yale,  having  such  a  chance; 
but  I  think  he  will  be  easy  with  you.  What  I  want  is 
for  him  to  refuse  to  take  that  dog  Morgan  onto  the 
nine,  and  Morgan  will  make  it  unless  Merriwell  ob- 
jects. With  your  confession,  I  can  convince  Merriwell 
of  the  whelp's  perfidy,  and  Morgan  will  be  dropped  im- 
mediately." 

This  was  a  very  simple  matter,  and  Defarge  had 
feared  Bart  would  use  the  confession  to  cause  both  of 
them  to  leave  college.  If  this  was  the  only  thing 
Hodge  wanted  the  confession  for,  he  should  have  it  in 
short  order.  Inwardly,  the  French  youth  was  chuck- 
ling with  satisfaction. 

"I  told  the  fellow  his  head  would  come  off  before 
the  Easter  trip!"  he  mentally  chuckled.  "Now,  he'll 
find  out!" 


The  False  Confession.  71 

Aloud  he  said : 

"If  you  will  promise  me  to  show  the  confession  to 
no  one  but  Merriwell  I'll  give  it  to  you;  but  you  must 
tell  him  I  could  not  help  doing  just  what  Morgan 
commanded.  Ask  him  to  be  easy  with  me.  It  will  ruin 
me  if  I  have  to  leave  college  before  I  finish  my  course." 

"I'll  do  it,"  agreed  Bart,  readily  enough,  delighted 
to  get  the  accusation  against  Morgan  on  such  terms. 

Defarge  pretended  to  hesitate,  but  Hodge  forced 
him  on,  and  he  took  up  the  pen  and  wrote  as  Bart 
dictated,  now  and  then  making  a  suggestion.  He 
stated  that  Morgan  possessed  some  sort  of  hypnotic 
power,  and  this  power  Dade  had  exercised  to  compel 
Bertrand  to  obey  his  commands.  He  had  commanded 
the  French  youth  to  hide  beside  the  road  and  hurl  the 
stone  down  at  Frank  as  Merry  came  along.  Bertrand 
had  begged  Morgan  not  to  compel  him  to  do  that,  but 
Dade  had  remained  unyielding.  Thus  it  came  about 
that  Defarge  did  the  trick  against  his  own  will,  and  he 
was  very,  very  sorry  for  it  and  profoundly  thankful 
that  Merriwell  had  not  been  harmed. 

"Now  sign  it!"  cried  Bart  exultantly.  "We'll  see 
if  Merriwell  will  have  any  compassion  on  that  whelp 
after  this." 

"What  will  Morgan  do  ?"  whispered  Defarge,  seem- 
ing to  hesitate,  with  the  pen  uplifted. 

"No  matter  what  he  does !" 

"But  you  do  not  think  of  me !  He  will  be  furious ! 
I  dare  not  sign  it !" 

He  was  playing  his  part  very  well. 


72  The  False  Confession. 

"By  Heaven !  you  must  sign !"  roared  Bart. 

"But  Morgan's  power  over  me — what  revenge  will 
he  take  ?    He  will  be  sure  to  seek  revenge  on  me !" 
.    Under  other  circumstances,  Bart  might  have  seen 
that  Defarge  was  overdoing  the  terrified  act. 

But  Bart  was  blinded  by  his  own  hatred  of  Morgan 
and  his  desire  to  get  this  signed  confession  which  must 
convince  Merriwell  of  Dade's  dastardy. 

"Sign  it !"  he  cried,  "and  I'll  protect  you  from  Mor- 
gan! Perhaps  Morgan  will  never  know  how  it  came 
about" 

"He  must  not  know — he  must  not!"  panted  the 
other.  "You  cannot  help  me  if  he  finds  it  out.  He  will 
put  me  under  his  influence  and  command  me  to  commit 
suicide,  perhaps !  Promise  me  that  you  will  make  Mer- 
riwell agree  not  to  let  Morgan  know  I  revealed  the 
truth  about  him." 

After  a  little  hesitation,  Bart  said : 

"I'll  do  what  I  can.  Go  ahead  and  sign.  You  must 
throw  yourself  on  Merriwell's  generosity,  and  I  know 
you  will  not  do  so  in  vain." 

Then  Defarge  signed  the  lying  confession,  which 
Bart  soon  folded  and  placed  in  his  pocket. 

"That's  all,  Mr.  Defarge,"  said  Hodge,  as  he  rose 
to  his  feet  and  walked  to  the  door,  taking  out  the  key. 
"I  have  obtained  just  what  I  came  for,  though  I  must 
say  you  gave  me  quite  a  lively  little  time  before  I  got 
it" 

He  inserted  the  key  and  threw  back  the  bolt  of  the 
lock. 


The  False  Confession.  73 

"Good  night,"  he  said. 

Then  he  opened  the  door,  flung  down  the  rapier,  and 
went  out. 

Alone  in  his  room,  Defarge  laughed  softly  with  sat- 
isfaction. 

"You  are  welcome  to  all  you^got,"  he  said.  "Now, 
Mr.  Dade  Morgan,  you'll  find  that  I  told  you  the  truth 
when  I  said  your  head  would  come  off,  and  perhaps 
you'll  learn  to  hate  Merriwell  again  as  intensely  as  you 
did  not  long  ago.  We'll  see  if  he  will  make  a  friend 
of  you,  as  he  has  of  so  many  others  who  began  by 
hating  him. 

"Bah,  Bart  Hodge !  you  thought  you  had  forced  am 
unwilling  confession  from  me ;  but,  instead  of  that,  you 
played  right  into  my  hands.  I  owe  you  something  for 
helping  me  along  with  my  little  schemes.  Why,  I  have 
really  enjoyed  this  call  from  you!" 

And  he  laughed  again,  softly,  with  a  hissing  sound 
through  his  white  teeth. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

FRANK   FORCES   THE  TRUTH. 

Bart  went  straight  to  Merriwell's  room  and  turned 
over  the  confession.  He  watched  Merriwell's  face, 
glowing  with  exultation,  as  Frank  read  the  remarkable 
statement  of  Defarge. 

"Where  did  you  get  this?"  Merry  asked,  when  he 
had  finished. 

Bart  explained,  and  Frank  listened. 

"Well,  this  is  rather  astonishing,  to  say  the  least," 
Merry  admitted,  frowning  over  it. 

"It  proves  beyond  the  least  doubt  that  Morgan  is 
still  your  enemy,  though  he  is  trying  to  strike  you 
in  the  most  dastardly  way  without  becoming  impli- 
cated himself." 

"It  seems  to  prove  that,"  Frank  admitted. 

"Well,  now  you  have  him  in  your  power.  But  De- 
farge is  mortally  afraid  of  the  fellow." 

Then  Hodge  explained  the  promises  he  had  made  to 
the  French  youth. 

"That  being  the  case,"  said  Merry,  as  he  folded  the 
confession  and  put  it  into  his  pocket,  "I  don't  see  how 
we  are  going  to  use  this  document  against  Morgan. 
Do  you?" 

"You  must  drop  Morgan  from  the  ball-team.  That 
will  hurt  him  as  much  as  anything." 


Frank  Forces  the  Truth.  75 

"How  can  I  do  that  without  an  explanation  ?  Would 
it  be  right?" 

"Right?  How  can  you  stop  to  think  of  such  a 
thing  in  connection  with  that  fellow  ?  He  ought  to  be 
forced  to  leave  college !" 

"I  agree  with  you  in  that,  but  it  cannot  be  done 
now,  as  you  have  given  Defarge  those  promises,  and 
Defarge  might  fall  with  Morgan." 

"Then  hang  the  promises  to  Defarge !  That  fellow 
is  a  scoundrel,  and  promises  to  such  dogs  do  not  hold !" 

"Yes,  they  do!  With  me  a  promise  to  any  man, 
high  or  low,  honest  or  dishonest,  saint  or  scoundrel, 
holds  good!" 

"But  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  will  not  do 
a  thing  ?"  snarled  Bart,  in  bitter  disappointment. 

"No,  I  do  not  say  that ;  but  I  shall  wait  a  while  be- 
fore I  make  a  move.  I  may  find  some  other  thing  by 
which  I  can  drop  Morgan  from  the  team — something 
that  will  permit  me  to  be  square  and  open  in  whatever 
I  do.  Wait  and  see,  Bart" 


The  work  in  the  cage  went  on  regularly  day  after 
day,  and  each  day  the  poorer  men  were  weeded  out 
from  the  great  mass  and  dropped.  From  nearly  a  hun- 
dred men  the  squad  thinned  down  to  fifty,  to  forty,  to 
thirty. 

Still  Dade  Morgan  remained,  though  Defarge  had 
been  dropped.  The  latter  could  not  understand  it.  Ap- 
parently Merriwell  had  made  not  the  slightest  move 


76  Frank  Forces  the  Truth. 

after  receiving  the  confession.  One  day  Bertrand  ven- 
tured to  ask  Hodge  if  he  had  given  the  confession  to 
Frank,  but  Bart  snarled  at  him  furiously  and  would 
not  answer. 

Indeed,  Hodge  was  in  a  most  disagreeable  humor, 
kept  so  by  the  manner  in  which  Morgan  hung  on. 
Fully  believing  the  fellow  a  wretch  of  the  most  das- 
tardly dye,  Bart  could  not  understand  Merry's  laxity 
in  not  forcing  Dade  to  get  out,  and  this  served  to  put 
Hodge  in  anything  but  an  agreeable  temper. 

Many  times  Frank  had  studied  the  confession  of 
Defarge.  He  did  so  while  quite  alone  in  his  own 
room,  and  he  found  something  about  it  that  convinced 
him  of  falseness  and  insincerity. 

At  least  ten  more  men  would  be  dropped  before  the 
team  would  start  on  the  Southern  trip,  and  out  of  the 
eighteen  or  twenty  men  who  were  to  play  during  the 
Easter  holidays  would  come  the  regular  nine. 

There  was  still  time  enough  to  drop  Morgan,  but 
Frank  did  not  wish  to  drop  him  without  being  satisfied 
of  the  absolute  justice  of  such  a  move.  He  had 
watched  Morgan  closely,  and  saw  there  was  good  base- 
ball-material in  the  lithe,  supple  youth.  More  than  that, 
he  saw  that  Morgan  might  develop  into  a  clever 
pitcher,  and  Frank  greatly  needed  assistance  in  the 
box,  for  he  could  not  pitch  all  the  games. 

One  night,  while  sitting  alone  and  meditating  over 
the  remarkable  confession,  Frank  began  to  think  of  the 
time  he  had  quelled  and  controlled  Defarge  by  the 
power  of  his  eyes.  He  remembered  that  the  French 


Frank  Forces  the  Truth.  77 

youth  had  seemed  absolutely  helpless  beneath  his  in- 
fluence. 

All  at  once,  Merry  sprang  to  his  feet,  exclaiming : 

"It's  worth  trying!" 

Two  minutes  later  he  had  left  his  room.  He  found 
Hodge  and  said : 

"I  want  you.  Come  along  with  me,  and  don't  say 
a  word." 

Bart  was  ready  enough,  for  he  fancied  Frank  had 
decided  at  last  to  act  against  Morgan.  But  Merriwell 
led  the  way  to  the  rooms  occupied  by  Bertrand  De- 
farge,  and,  by  rare  good  luck,  they  found  the  French 
youth  there  alone. 

Defarge  was  astonished  when  both  Merriwell  and 
Hodge  entered  without  stopping  to  knock.  He  was 
more  astonished  when  Hodge  again  closed  and  locked 
the  door. 

What  were  they  after?  With  pale  face,  Defarge 
rose,  and  faced  Frank  Merriwell.  Frank's  eyes  met  his 
squarely,  and  in  their  depths  the  accuser  of  Morgan 
saw  something  that  made  him  shiver. 

"What — what  do  you  want  ?"  he  weakly  asked. 

"We  have  called  to  see  you  a  few  moments,"  said 
Frank,  in  a  calm,  soothing  tone.  "Don't  be  alarmed. 
We  have  not  the  least  intention  of  harming  you  phys- 
ically." He  had  advanced  to  the  table  as  he  spoke,  still 
keeping  his  eyes  fastened  on  Bertrand's,  who  seemed 
to  feel  a  strange  power  creeping  over  him  and  perva- 
ding his  entire  being.  "Let's  sit  down  here  by  the 
table  where  we  can  talk,"  urged  Frank. 


78  Frank  Forces  the  Truth. 

Defarge  sank  into  a  chair,  still  staring  at  Frank's 
eyes.  As  the  French  youth  sank,  so  sank  Merriwell, 
and  Hodge  saw  them  sit  looking  at  each  other  over  the 
table.  Bart  held  his  breath,  wondering  what  was  to 
follow. 

Frank  seemed  to  put  his  very  soul  into  that  look,  and 
Defarge  gradually  paled  and  took  on  a  limp  and  life- 
less expression,  although  he  sat  there  looking  at  Merry. 

With  a  gentle  motion,  Frank  leaned  over  and  lightly 
touched  Bertrand  on  the  forehead.  Defarge  remained 
motioneless,  without  winking. 

"It  is  well,"  said  Merry.  "You  must  now  answer 
my  questions  faithfully  and  truly.  "You  will  do  so !" 

It  was  a  command. 

"I  will." 

Bertrand's  voice  was  hollow  and  listless. 

"Now,"  said  Frank,  turning  to  Bart,  with  a  smile, 
"We'll  find  out  the  real  truth.  He  cannot  lie  to  me  if 
he  wishes." 

"What  in  the  name  of  all  that's  wonderful  have  you 
done  to  him  ?"  gasped  the  astounded  fellow,  approach- 
ing the  table.  "Have  you " 

"Yes,"  nodded  Merry.  "You  remember  the  time 
he  tried  to  stab  me  while  intoxicated.  I  discovered 
then  that  I  possessed  this  power  over  him.  To-night 
I  resolved  to  exercise  it  to  make  him  speak  the  truth." 

Then  he  turned  to  Bertrand,  while  Bart  looked  on 
and  listened  expectantly : 

"Defarge,  do  you  regard  Morgan  as  a  friend  ?" 

"No." 


Frank  Forces  the  Truth.  79 

"Do  you  like  him?" 

"No." 

"Do  you  hate  him  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Why  do  you  hate  him  ?" 

"Because  he  was  once  friendly  toward  me,  but  now 
seems  to  be  ready  to  become  your  friend." 

"Would  you  like  to  do  him  an  injury?" 

"Yes." 

"Has  he  any  influence  over  you?" 

"No." 

"Not  the  slightest?" 

"Not  the  slightest." 

"Then  he  cannot  compel  you  to  do  anything  he  com- 
mands ?" 

"No." 

"He  did  not  force  you  to  conceal  yourself  beside  the 
road  one  night  when  the  squad  took  a  run  into  the 
suburbs  and  throw  a  stone  at  me  ?" 

"No." 

"You  did  that  of  your  own  accord  ?" 

"I  did." 

Frank  took  the  confession  from  his  pocket  and  held 
it  before  Bertrand's  eyes. 

"Then  this  confession  is  false?" 

"Every  word  of  it." 

"That's  all,"  said  Frank  quietly,  as  he  tore  the 
paper  into  shreds.  "I  have  nothing  further  to  ask 
you.  But  now,  while  you  are  in  this  condition,  I  want 
to  force  upon  you  the  knowledge  that  you  cannot  harm 


8o  Frank  Forces  the  Truth. 

me  if  you  try.  More  than  that,  I  want  you  to  know 
that  you  can  never  try  to  harm  me  again.  I  hold  ab- 
solute power  over  you,  and  you  will  never  again  lift 
a  hand  to  do  me  an  injury." 

Defarge  bowed  slightly. 

Merry  rose  and  passed  his  hand  before  Bertrand's 
eyes. 

"Wake  up!"  he  said  sharply.  "I've  finished  with 
you!" 

The  French  youth  gave  a  start,  rubbed  his  eyes, 
stared  at  Frank  and  Bart,  and  mumbled: 

"Why,  what— what — where " 

Merriwell  and  Hodge  were  retreating.  Bart  turned 
the  key  in  the  lock. 

"Good  night,"  said  Merriwell,  as  the  door  closed  be- 
hind them. 

"Well,  I'll  be  hanged !"  muttered  Hodge,  when  they 
were  outside. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A   PLOT   AGAINST    FRANK. 

Bart,  of  course,  had  no  further  objection  to  offer  to 
Dade  Morgan  as  a  member  of  the  nine,  and  the  work 
of  choosing  the  players  went  on  without  any  other  un- 
pleasant incidents.  When  the  final  selections  were 
made,  Frank  was  satisfied  that  the  Yale  team  was  com- 
petent to  put  up  a  good  game  of  ball  and  would  more 
than  hold  its  own  against  its  Southern  rivals,  and  his 
judgment  was  confirmed  on  the  field. 

The  date  scheduled  for  the  game  at  Charlottesville, 
Virginia,  proved  to  be  a  beautiful,  mild  day,  early  in 
April.  It  was  near  noon,  and  among  the  crowd  gath- 
ered to  greet  the  players  on  the  platform  of  the  rail- 
road-station were  two  men  strikingly  unlike  in  appear- 
ance. One  was  tall,  raw-boned,  sinewy ;  the  other  was 
of  medium  height,  young,  slender,  and  flashily 
dressed.  The  taller  of  the  two  was  rough,  and  plainly 
given  to  dissipation.  He  was  about  forty  years  of  age 
and  a  tough-looking  customer.  The  other  was  in  his 
early  twenties,  but  he  had  the  face  of  a  youthful 
drinker,  and  there  was  about  him  an  offensive  air  of 
conceit. 

The  elder  man  was  Jack  Cunningham,  brother  of 
Bill  Cunningham,  the  famous  Blue  Ridge  moonshiner 


82  A  Plot  Against  Frank. 

and  outlaw.  The  younger  was  Roland  Ditson,  once  a 
student  at  Yale  College. 

Cunningham  was  listening  to  the  guarded  talk  of  his 
youthful  companion.  He  had  reddish  hair  and  beard. 
His  trousers  were  tucked  in  the  tops  of  his  boots,  and 
he  wore  a  woolen  shirt  that  was  open  at  the  neck.  His 
build  was  that  of  a  man  possessing  great  strength  and 
endurance. 

"I  reckon  yo'  don't'  love  this  Frank  Merriwell 
much,"  said  Cunningham. 

"I  hate  him,"  replied  Ditson,  who  was  smoking  a 
cigarette  and  nervously  handling  his  cane.  The  first 
two  fingers  of  his  right  hand  were  stained  a  sickly  yel- 
low. 

"What  makes  yo'  hate  him  so  ver'  much?"  asked 
Cunningham. 

"I  can't  tell  the  whole  story ;  it's  too  long." 

"Did  he  steal  a  girl  away  from  yo'  some  time?" 

"No.  We  were  at  college  together.  He's  still  go- 
ing to  college.  He  set  himself  up  as  a  leader  as  soon 
as  he  entered." 

"An*  yo'  didn't  approve  of  that?" 

"Well,  I  didn't  like  it  much.  You  can  bet  your  life 
I  did  not  bow  before  him,  same  as  most  of  the  fellows 
came  to  do." 

"Bucked  agin'  him,  did  yo',  boy?" 

"Dicidedly." 

"An'  he  slammed  yo'  down  hard?" 

"Confound  him !  he  always  had  a  way  of  coming  out 
on  top.  But  I've  got  a  score  to  settle,  and  I'm  going 


A  Plot  Against  Frank.  83 

to  settle  it!  He  disgraced  me  before  the  whole  crowd 
one  night,  and  I  swore  then  that  I'tf  find  a  way  of  get- 
ting even  before  I  died.  Oh,  I  suppose  I've  got  the 
best  reason  for  hating  him  that  a  fellow  ever  had !  No 
matter  just  what  it  is;  I  don't  like  to  talk  about  that. 
He  did  me  dirt,  and  I'm  going  to  get  back  at  him." 

"Yo'  say  he's  comin'  here?" 

"Yes.  He's  the  pitcher  on  the  Yale  baseball-team, 
which  plays  Virginia  here  this  afternoon." 

"Well,  what's  your  game  ?" 

"Virginia  must  win.  I  have  learned  that  Memweli 
will  pitch  here  to-day,  for  Yale  means  to  take  no 
chances." 

"Well?" 

"Virginia  can't  win  with  Merriwell  pitching  for 
Yale." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  it  is  impossible.  The  fellow  is  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  twirlers  who  ever  threw  a  ball.  He 
has  a  curve  that  no  batter  can  hit,  and  I  understand 
that  he  is  in  perfect  form  this  season.  Virginia  has  not 
a  ghost  of  a  show  with  Merriwell  pitching1." 

Ditson  puffed  fiercely  at  the  cigarette,  blowing  some 
of  the  smoke  into  Cunningham's  face.  The  giant 
coughed  and  fanned  it  aside  with  his  huge  paw. 

"What  in  thunder  any  human  being  wants  to  smoke 
anything  like  that  for  is  mo'  than  I  can  understand !" 
he  blurted,  in  disgust.  "The  smell  of  it  would  make 
a  pig  sick!" 


84  A  Plot  Against  Frank. 

"Excuse  me,"  said  Ditson,  who  did  not  wish  to 
offend  the  fellow. 

"Why  don't  yo'  be'  a  man  an'  smoke  a  pipe  ?"  de- 
manded the  other.  "Does  this  Merriwell  smoke  them  ?" 

"I  believe  he  does  not  smoke  at  all.  He's  one  of  the 
goody-good  kind  that  never  does  anything  bad.  Oh, 
he's  a  most  sickening  and  disgusting  fellow." 

"Kind  of  a  mammy's  boy,  eh  ?" 

"In  some  ways,  yes ;  but  you  do  not  want  to  make 
a  mistake  by  getting  to  think  he's  weak,  for  he  isn't. 
He  is  one  of  the  strongest  men  at  Yale — he's  an  ath- 
lete." 

"Haw !"  blurted  Cunningham,  with  a  gesture  of  con- 
tempt. "I  judge  I  know  what  that  means.  Them 
college  athletes  don't  amount  to  anything.  The  best 
of  them  would  be  a  child  in  my  hands." 

"Now,  don't  make  the  mistake  of  underrating  col- 
lege athletes,"  Ditson  hastened  to  say.  "Some  of  them 
are  wonderfully  strong  and  expert,  and  this  Merriwell 
is  a  leader  among  such  men." 

"All  right ;  have  it  that  way  if  yo'  want  to.  I  don't 
care." 

"If  Merriwell  does  not  play  with  the  Yale  team  Vir- 
ginia will  win,  for  she  has  a  good  nine,  and  Virgil 
Paragon,  her  pitcher,  is  clever.  I  want  her  to  win  the 
worst  way.  It  will  make  Merriwell  feel  mean,  for  he's 
captain  of  the  Yale  team." 

"Well,  how  yo'  goin'  to  do  the  trick?" 

"That's  why  I  sent  for  you.    That's  why  I  bad 
to  come  here  with  your  team." 


A  Plot  Against  Frank.  85 

"Yo'  ain't  made  it  clear  yet." 

"I  want  you  to  carry  this  Merriwell  off." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"Don't  you  know  some  place  about  two  or  three 
miles  outside  of  town  where  you  can  take  him  and  keep 
him  till  about  six  o'clock  this  afternoon?" 

"I  judge  I  do.  I  could  take  him  out  to  Ben  Shan- 
non's place." 

"That's  all  right." 

"But  how'm  I  goin'  to  get  him  to  go,  suh?  I  can't 
jest  openly  nab  him  right  here  befo'  everybody  and 
carry  him  off  without  raisin'  a  row." 

"I'll  fix  that  all  right  so  he  will  go  along  with  you 
without  a  word.  When  you  get  him  out  there  you 
must  take  care  of  him  and  see  that  he  doesn't  come 
back." 

"Oh,  I  can  do  that  all  right  if  I  can  get  him  to  come 
along  without  raising  a  fuss.  But  how'm  I  to  get  him 
to  come  along,  suh  ?" 

"I'll  explain.  There  is  a  girl  stopping  in  this  town 
whom  he  knows.  Her  name  is  Elsie  Bellwood,  and 
she  is  stopping  out  at  the  Parker  plantation.  Merriwell 
is  more  or  less  smashed  on  her,  and  he  always  stands 
ready  to  fly  to  her  at  her  call." 

Cunningham  rolled  his  quid  of  tobacco  over  his 
tongue,  and  winked  at  Roland,  as  he  observed : 

"I  begin  to  see  yo'  game.  I'm  ter  tell  him  she  wants 
to  see  him,  git  him  inter  my  turnout,  an'  whisk  off." 

"Something  like  that,  but  I've  prepared  something 
that  will  make  it  dead  easy  to  fool  him.  I  happened 


86  A  Plot  Against  Frank. 

to  get  hold  of  some  of  her  handwriting,  and  I've  writ- 
ten a  note  for  you  to  give  him.  I've  imitated  her  wri- 
ting and  signed  her  name,  and  I  think  it  will  fool  him. 
He  won't  be  looking  out  for  tricks,  so  it  will  be  dead 
easy." 

"How  much  money  did  yo'  say  there  was  in  it?" 

"Fifty  dollars." 

"Cash  in  advance?" 

"Twenty-five  in  advance;  twenty-five  afterward." 

"I'll  do  it.    Where's  the  letter  an'  the  money  ?" 

"Wait.  I  don't  want  anybody  to  see  me  give  you 
the  letter  or  the  money.  Let's  walk  out  here  a  piece 
where  we'll  be  alone." 

"All  right." 

They  made  a  strangely  mated  pair  as  they  walked 
down  the  station-platform  and  passed  round  behind  the 
freight-building. 

"Here  is  the  letter,"  said  Roland,  as  he  took  a  square 
envelope  from  his  pocket  and  passed  it  over  to  Cun- 
ningham. 

On  the  envelope  was  written:  "Mr.  Frank  Merri- 
well,  kindness  of  Mr.  Muldoon." 

"Who's  Mr.  Muldoon?"  demanded  Cunningham. 

"You're  Mr.  Muldoon,"  explained  Ditson,  with  a 
crafty  smile.  "That's  so  he  will  not  get  onto  your 
real  name  at  once.  He's  posted,  and  he  may  have 
heard  of  you,  or  your  brother.  Best  not  to  wake  up  his 
suspicions  too  quick." 

"S'pose  that's  right,"  nodded  the  giant,  as  he  thrust 


A  Plot  Against  Frank.  87 

the  letter  into  his  pocket.  "Seems  to  me  I've  heard  of 
a  strong  man  by  the  name  of  Muldoon." 

"There  is  such  a  man — William  Muldoon,  and  he's 
a  wonder." 

"Then  I'm  his  brother,  an'  I  can  throw  Willie  four 
times  out  of  five,  with  one  hand  tied  behind  me.  Mr. 
Frank  Merriwell  will  think  so  when  I  lay  fingers  on 
him." 

Again  Roland  warned  the  confident  ruffian  not  to 
underestimate  Merriwell's  prowess. 

"If  you  do,  he'll  surprise  you,  just  as  true  as  you 
live.  He  is  a  wonder." 

"That's  all  right,"  grinned  Cunningham.  "I  know 
all  about  them  kind  of  wonders.  Where's  yoah  money, 
suh?" 

Ditson  produced  a  roll  of  bills,  the  sight  of  which 
caused  the  eyes  of  the  rascal  to  glitter  and  his  fingers 
to  twitch.  In  that  moment  it  is  likely  he  was  tempted 
to  snatch  the  whole  amount,  run  for  it,  and  let  Frank 
Merriwell  go  his  way. 

"Here's  twenty-five,"  said  Roland,  stripping  off  two 
tens  and  a  five  and  handing  them  over.  "I'll  give  you 
the  rest  to-night  after  you  have  done  the  job.  When 
the  train  comes  in  all  you  have  to  do  is  go  right  in 
among  the  Yale  men  and  ask  for  Merriwell.  They'll 
point  him  out  to  you.  Give  him  the  letter  and  get  him 
into  your  wagon  as  soon  as  you  can.  After  that  it's 
for  you  to  make  sure  he  doesn't  show  up  again  til* 
after  the  ball-game  is  over." 

The  train  whistled  in  the  distance. 


88  A  Plot  Against  Frank. 

"There  she  comes!"  exclaimed  Cunningham. 

"Yes,  there  she  comes!"  palpitated  Ditson.  "Get 
back  to  the  platform  and  be  ready  for  your  work. 
Don't  make  a  fizzle  of  it." 

"There  ain't  the  least  danger  of  that,  suh,"  confi- 
dently declared  Cunningham,  as  he  strode  away. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE   GREETING  AT   THE   STATION. 

Of  course,  the  expected  arrival  of  the  Yale  baseball- 
team  brought  out  a  crowd  to  see  the  team  come  in. 
The  fact  that  Frank  Merriwell,  the  model  young 
American,  and  the  pride  of  the  youth  of  the  whole 
country,  was  captain  of  the  Yale  nine,  had  something 
to  do  with  the  gathering  of  a  throng  of  young  men 
at  the  station-platform.  The  students  from  the  col- 
lege had  come  down  to  greet  the  Yale  men,  and  there 
was  more  or  less  excitement  as  the  train  drew  up  at 
the  station. 

Nor  were  the  colors  of  Virginia  the  only  ones  to  be 
seen  in  the  gathering  at  the  station.  One  freckle- 
faced,  but  athletic-appearing,  youngster,  whose  clothes 
were  somewhat  shabby,  had  somehow  procured  a  knot 
of  dark-blue  ribbon,  which  he  wore  conspicuously. 

"Say,  Jimmy,"  called  another  boy,  as  a  crowd  of 
youngsters  gathered  round  the  wearer  of  the  blue, 
"what  do  you  think  you're  doing,  anyhow?  What's 
them  colors  ye're  wearin'  ?" 

"Them's  Yale  colors,"  was  the  proud  and  defiant 
reply.  "What  have  you  got  to  say  about  it,  Scrubby 
Vatson?" 

"We  want  to  know  what  you're  wearin'  them  for  I 
Ain't  you  for  the  home  team  ?" 


90          The  Greeting  at  the  Station 

"Well,  any  other  time  I  am,  but  not  to-day." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  the  Yale  nine  is  run  by  Frank  Merriwell, 
and  I'm  for  him  first,  last,  and  all  the  time.  He's  the 
boss  jim-dandy,  and  don't  you  forget  it!  Why,  I'll  bet 
a  thousand  dollars  that  he  just  wipes  up  the  earth  with 
U.  V.  to-day.  There  ain't  anybody  can  beat  him,  and 
don't  you  forget  that,  either!" 

"Go  on !  He's  pretty  good,  but  Paragon  will  show 
him  some  tricks  to-day.  You're  a  traitor,  else  you 
wouldn't  be  wearin'  that  ribbon." 

"You're  a  big  fibber,  Scrub!  I've  always  been  for 
Frank  Merriwell,  and  I'd  be  a  traitor  to  him  if  I  went 
back  on  him  to-day.  His  friends  never  go  back  on 
him!" 

"Well,  I  guess  you've  worn  that  long  enough." 

Then  the  boy  called  Watson  suddenly  snatched  the 
ribbon  from  the  ragged  coat  of  the  other  lad.  A  mo- 
ment later  Watson  got  it  good  and  hard  on  the  point 
of  the  jaw,  and  he  went  down  with  a  thud. 

"That's  one  of  Frank  Merriwell's  settlers,"  declared 
Jimmy,  as  he  snatched  up  the  ribbon.  "I  read  all  about 
how  he  did  it,  an'  I'm  willing  to  give  any  of  you  other 
fellers  some  of  the  same.  Come  on,  if  you  want  it." 

But  by  this  time  the  train  had  come  to  a  stop,  and  the 
Virginia  students  gave  a  cheer  on  catching  sight  of  the 
Yale  men.  Instantly  every  lad  was  pushing  and 
crowding  in  a  mad  endeavor  to  get  nearer  the  car,  the 
trouble  between  Watson  and  Jimmy  being  forgotten. 

The  Yale  men  were  a  lusty-looking  set  of  fellows  as 


The  Greeting  at  the  Station.          91 

they  descended  from  the  car.  The  crowd  swayed  and 
pushed  and  commented. 

"There's  Browning — the  big  fellow!" 

"Who's  that  farmerish-looking  fellow  ?  Can  he  play 
ball?" 

"Where  is  Merriwell?" 

"That  big  fellow  with  the  light  hair  must  be  Merri- 
well." 

"No,  that's  Starbright,  the  freshman  who  made  such 
a  football  record  last  fall." 

"Where's  Merriwell?" 

"Who's  that  black-eyed  chap?  He  looks  as  if  he 
might  sprint." 

"That's  Morgan.  He's  a  freshman,  but  he  was  on 
the  eleven  last  fall." 

"Where's  Merriwell?*' 

"Here  he  comes!  That's  Frank  Merriwell!  Hur- 
rah for  Merriwell!" 

"Hurrah !  hurrah !  hurrah !"  roared  the  crowd. 

A  look  of  dismay  came  to  the  handsome  face  of  the 
captain  of  the  Yale  nine  as  the  crowd  broke  into  a 
great  cheer  when  he  appeared  on  the  platform  of  the 
car. 

The  little  fellow  with  the  freckled  face  and  the  knot 
of  dark-blue  ribbon  pinned  on  his  jacket  shinned  to  the 
shoulders  of  a  man  and  shrieked : 

"There  he  is!  There  he  is!  There  he  is!  That's 
Frank  Merriwell,  the  greatest  pitcher  that  ever  lived! 
Hoop-ee !  Yee !  Hoo-ray !" 

Frank  saw  this  excited  youthful  admirer,  whose 


92          The  Greeting  at  the  Station. 

freckled  face  fairly  gleamed  with  joyous  admiration, 
and  he  was  forced  to  laugh  outright.  That  laugh  won 
to  Merriwell  many  friends  in  the  crowd.  Indeed,  there 
was  something  so  magnetic  and  winning  about  this 
nandsome  youth  that  his  mere  appearance  on  the  plat- 
form of  the  car  was  enough  to  make  him  friends. 

Many  in  the  crowd  had  heard  of  Frank  and  con- 
ceived a  prejudice  against  him,  fancying  him  a  college 
youth  with  a  swelled  head,  but  even  these  were  struck 
by  his  handsome  proportions,  his  graceful,  muscular 
figure,  his  fine  head  and  that  look  of  clean  manliness 
which  stamped  him  as  a  fellow  with  lofty  thoughts  and 
ambitions. 

"No  one  could  mistake  any  other  for  Frank  now 
that  Frank  had  appeared.  The  word  "leader"  was 
written  all  over  him.  And  yet,  remarkable  to  say,  there 
was  not  about  him  the  least  suggestion  of  conceit.  To 
be  sure,  he  regarded  himself  with  a  certain  amount  of 
self-esteem,  and  it  is  requisite  that  any  man  should  so 
look  upon  himself  if  he  wishes  to  win  the  esteem  of 
others.  But  the  fact  that  his  appearance  in  any  place 
should  create  so  much  excitement  and  enthusiasm  was 
something  he  could  not  understand,  and  he  never 
ceased  wondering  over  it.  It  seemed  quite  inexplicable, 
for  he  could  not  believe  that  he  had  ever  done  any- 
thing extraordinary  enough  to  make  himself  thus  well 
known  and  admired. 

As  Frank  descended  the  car-steps  he  was  met  by 
Phil  Drake,  the  captain  of  the  U.  V.  nine,  who  grasped 
his  hand,  uttering  some  words  of  welcome. 


The  Greeting  at  the  Station.  93 

But  Merry  looked  round  for  the  little  freckled  fel- 
low who  had  uttered  such  a  joyous  shriek  on  seeing 
him.  He  found  the  boy  in  the  clutch  of  the  man  upon 
•whose  shoulders  he  had  perched,  and  the  man  was  sha- 
king him  roughly,  growling : 

"Climb  me  for  a  tree,  will  yo'  ?  I'll  teach  yo'  better 
manners,  yo'  brat !" 

With  a  sweep  of  his  arm,  Frank  thrust  aside  all  who 
stood  between  him  and  the  man.  With  a  stride  he  was 
at  the  man's  side.  Quick  and  firm  was  his  grasp  on 
the  man's  arm. 

"Don't  hurt  that  boy !    Stop  it,  sir !" 

With  a  snarl,  the  man  whirled  and 

Jack  Cunningham  and  Frank  Merriwell  were  face  to 
face! 


CHAPTER  XI. 

ICING   JIMMY   THE   FIRST. 

"Mind  yoah  business,  suh !  The  youngster  climbed 
all  over  me,  an'  I'm  goin'  to " 

"I  wouldn't  hurt  him,  if  I  were  you.  He  didn't 
mean  any  harm." 

Frank  spoke  quietly,  softly,  smoothly,  looking  into 
the  fierce  eyes  of  the  ruffian. 

"That  settles  it !"  breathed  the  delighted  boy.  "Now 
I  reckon  you'll  let  me  go !  If  you  don't,  Frank  Merri- 
well will  do  something  to  you!" 

"Frank  Merriwell?" 

Cunningham  repeated  the  name,  his  manner  chan- 
ging- 

"Are  you  Frank  Merriwell  ?" 

"Yes, 

"An'  he  can  wallop  the  stuffing  out  of  two  of  you, 
if  you  are  big  and  do  chew  tobacco!"  instantly  de- 
clared the  boy,  "If  you  don't  think  he  can,  just  give 
him  a  chance.  Hit  me  a  good  cuff  side  of  the  head, 
and  I'll  bet  a  hundred  dollars  he'll  throw  you  clean 
over  the  train !" 

Frank  could  not  resist  his  laughter  at  this  declara- 
tion of  the  freckle-faced  fellow.  Cunningham  laughed, 
also. 


King  Jimmy  the  First.  95 

"Haw !  haw !"  he  roared.  "Tears  to  me  the  young- 
ster is  mightily  stuck  on  yo',  mister." 

"Stuck  on  him !"  burst  from  Jimmy.  "You  can  bet 
your  life  I  am !  He's  made  himself  what  he  is,  the  boss 
athlete  of  the  United  States,  and  I'm  going  to  be  just 
as  much  like  him  as  I  can.  I  know  some  other  fellows 
that  feel  the  same  way  about  it,  too." 

"Why,  yo'  don't  s'pose  he  could  wallop  me,  do  yo', 
boy?"  ' 

"Don't  I !  Say,  he  can  do  it  with  one  hand  tied  bt- 
hind  hirr.^  for  he's  Frank  Merriwell." 

"But  he  ain't  got  any  whiskers." 

"He  don't  need  'em ;  he's  got  muscle,  and  he  knows 
just  how  to  use  it." 

"Haw!  haw!"  roared  Cunningham  again.  "It  sure 
makes  me  laff  at  the  idea,  an'  feelin'  tickled  so  I  can't 
hit  yo',  so  I'll  let  yo'  go." 

The  boy  seemed  disappointed. 

"I'd  just  like  to  see  what  Frank  Merriwell  would 
done  to  you  if  you  had  basted  me  again,"  he  sighed. 
"Won't  you  please  hit  me  a  good  one?" 

At  this  Cunningham  roared  once  more,  slapping  his 
thigh. 

"Why,  yo're  a  queer  little  staver!"  he  said,  with  a 
great  show  of  good  nature.  "Yo'  want  to  get  me  inter 
trouble,  but  I  refuse  to  be  caught." 

"Well,  it's  a  mighty  good  thing  for  you  that  you 
had  sense  enough  to  refuse,"  nodded  Jimmy. 

The  crowd  all  about  was  laughing,  and  somebody 
cried: 


96  King  Jimmy  the  First. 

"Those  are  the  kind  of  admirers  you  have,  Merri- 
well." 

Then  Frank  reached  down,  grasped  the  boy,  and 
swung  him  lightly  up  to  his  shoulder. 

"And  I  am  proud  to  have  such  admirers,"  he  gravely 
declared,  a  look  of  earnestness  on  his  face.  "I  had 
rather  have  the  love  and  admiration  of  the  boys  of  this 
nation  than  all  the  wealth  of  the  Klondike!  This  boy 
says  he  wants  to  grow  up  and  be  like  me  and  that  there 
are  others  who  have  the  same  desire.  Those  words 
will  serve  to  make  me  still  more  careful  in  regard  to  my 
actions,  for  more  than  ever  I  realize  that  the  example 
of  every  man  affects  others." 

The  crowd  was  suddenly  silent.  From  some  other 
these  words  might  have  made  no  impression,  or  might 
have  sounded  stilted  and  egotistical;  from  the  lips  of 
this  splendid  specimen  of  perfect  manhood  they  made 
a  deep  and  lasting  impression  on  many  who  heard 
them. 

"My  boy,"  said  Merry,  "what  is  your  name  ?" 

"James  Lee,  sir;  usually  called  Jimmy  for  short." 

"Well,  James  Lee,  I  thank  you  for  your  great  faith 
in  my  prowess,  but  I'm  glad  you  did  not  involve  me  in 
a  fight,  for  I  dislike  fighting  more  than  anything  else — 
unless  it  is  lying  and  cheating,  and  things  of  that  sort. 
I  prefer  a  fighter  to  a  liar  any  day." 

"I  don't  s'pose  you  ever  told  a  lie  in  your  life  ?" 

Frank  laughed  again. 

"I  fear  I  have,"  he  confessed.  "I  am  not  a  second 
Georg'e  Washington  in  that  respect,  but  I  hope  I  have 


King  Jimmy  the  First.  97 

never  told  a  malicious  or  harmful  lie,  and  I  hope  I  may 
never  again  tell  a  lie  of  any  sort.  I  see  you  are  wearing 
our  colors  to-day.  Do  you  live  here  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"And  you  are  for  Yale  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Why?" 

"Because  you  are  captain  of  the  Yale  team,  and  I 
know  U.  V.  can't  beat  you !" 

"Hooray  for  Jimmy  Lee!"  roared  Bruce  Browning, 
aroused  by  the  words  of  the  boy. 

Then  from  those  Yale  men  rose  a  cheer,  to  the  end 
©f  which  was  tacked  the  name  of  Jimmy  Lee. 

And  Jimmy — well,  you  should  have  seen  him!  He 
was  the  happiest  youngster  in  all  Virginia.  He  tingled 
from  his  head  to  his  heels.  His  eyes  shone  and  his 
freckled  face  gleamed.  These  Yale  men,  these  hand- 
some, athletic  fellows,  these  followers  of  Frank  Merri- 
well,  were  cheering  for  him!  Why  shouldn't  he  be 
happy  ?  Why  shouldn't  he  thrill  with  unspeakable  de- 
light? 

And  back  at  a  distance  stood  Scrubby  Watson  and 
his  followers,  looking  on  in  unspeakable  envy.  Was 
this  little  Jimmy  Lee,  whom  they  had  often  bullied? 
They  had  been  astounded  when  he  dared  hit  Watson, 
the  king-pin  of  their  set,  for  that  showed  a  great 
change  had  come  over  Jimmy.  He  had  been  following 
in  the  footsteps  of  Frank  Merriwell,  and  the  resuh  was 
a  shock  to  them.  But  now — well,  now  he  would  be  a 
god  among  them  for  some  time  to  come!  Watson 


98  King  Jimmy  the  First. 

was  deposed;  the  mighty  had  fallen;  the  idol  of  the 
past  was  dust.  Up  with  the  new  king !  All  hail  King 
Jimmy,  the  "man"  who  had  sat  upon  Frank  Merri- 
well's  shoulder  while  the  Yale  team  cheered  for  him! 

Jimmy  looked  about  and  saw  them  and  smiled  upon 
them.  Forgotten  was  his  shabby  clothes,  his  ragged 
jacket,  and  patched  trousers.  He  was  clothed  in  robes 
of  royal  dignity  now.  Oh,  never  would  he  forget  that 
day  as  long  as  he  lived.  It  would  always  remain  the 
proudest  day  of  his  life.  He  would  tell  his  children 
and  his  grandchildren  how,  when  he  was  a  little  boy, 
he  had  sat  upon  the  shoulder  of  the  great  Frank  Merri- 
well  while  the  Yale  ball-team  had  cheered  for  him! 
That  was  glory  enough  to  last  a  lifetime ! 

And  certain  it  is  that  this  little  event  of  that  day  was 
to  have  an  influence  on  Jimmy's  entire  life.  It  was  to 
make  him  a  more  self-respecting  man;  it  was  to  give 
him  new  and  greater  ambitions ;  it  was  to  urge  him  on- 
ward and  upward. 

Yes,  King  Jimmy  had  risen,  and  it  was  not  likely 
that  he  would  be  deposed.  He  had  been  working  for 
some  time  to  develop  himself  and  emulate  Frank  Mer- 
riwell ;  he  would  work  harder  now.  He  would  become 
a  leader  among  the  smaller  boys  in  athletic  sports  and 
games,  for  the  man  who  had  sat  upon  Frank  Merri- 
well's  shoulder  must  know  how  to  tell  them  the  proper 
way  to  develop  their  muscles !  And  they  would  follow 
in  his  lead,  all  of  them  taking  new  interest  in  the  work 
of  developing  their  bodies — the  work  that  is  the  great- 
est and  happiest  play  for  a  boy. 


King  Jimmy  the  First.  99 

Thus  the  little  event  there  at  the  station-platform 
had  wrought  a  vast  amount  of  good  in  that  handsome 
Virginia  town.  Thus  it  was  that  the  influence  of 
Frank  Merriwell  spread  and  broadened  so  that  in  after- 
years  it  must  astound  Frank  himself. 

"Well,  well,  well!"  cried  Jack  Cunningham.  "I 
judge  it  ain't  often  a  kid  like  you  gets  cheered  in  that 
way." 

Jack  Ready,  with  apple  cheeks  aglow,  pranced  for- 
ward and  posed  before  Jimmy. 

"Ah-ha!"  cried  the  queer  fellow,  "I  salute  you, 
James  the  First  of  Charlottesville.  May  your  power 
never  wane,  and  may  your  subjects  be  as  numerous 
as  your  freckles.  James,  you  have  a  level  head  on 
your  youthful  shoulders,  and  I  will  give  you  the  great 
and  exceeding  honor  of  gently  touching  my  lily-white 
hand." 

Then  he  grasped  Jimmy's  hand  and  shook  it  vigor- 
ously. 

Other  Yale  men  followed  Jack's  example,  so  that 
Jimmy  received  a  grand  greeting  as  he  sat  there  upon 
the  shoulder  of  the  young  American  he  admired  more 
than  any  other  living  human  being.  As  they  pressed 
forward  to  shake  Jimmy's  hand  the  Yale  men  made 
jolly  remarks  and  the  crowd  in  the  background  began 
to  cheer. 

Why,  these  Yale  chaps  were  all  right!  Nothing 
rowdyish  about  them !  Were  they  fair  samples  of  what 
physical  training  made  young  men?  Then  great  was 
physical  training.  They  had  life  and  spirit ;  their  eyes 


roo  King  Jimmy  the  First. 

were  bright  and  their  cheeks  glowed.  There  could  be 
no  mistaking  that  clear  eye  and  healthy  cheek;  alco- 
holic drink  had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  that.  The 
color  of  the  cheek  was  not  the  congested  flesh  of  false 
stimulation ;  it  was  the  true  tint  of  health  which  every 
youth  should  have. 

"See  Jimmy!"  gasped  the  former  followers  of  Wat- 
son. 

"They're  shakin'  hands  with  him !" 

"My  goodness,  fellers,  don't  you  wish  you  was 
him!" 

"Settin*  up  there  on  Frank  Merriwell's  shoul- 
der  " 

"And  shakin'  hands  with  the  Yale  ball-team !" 

"O-o-o-oh!" 

And  "O-o-o-oh!"  groaned  Watson  himself,  fairly 
green  with  envy. 

"I'd  like  to  lick  him!"  thought  Watson.  Then  he 
put  his  hand  to  his  jaw  and  mentally  added:  "But 
he  can  hit  like  thunder !  I  never  s'posed  he  could  slug 
that  way.  Don't  know  as  I  could  lick  him  if  I  tried." 

You  couldn't,  Watson;  you've  lost  confidence  in 
yourself,  and  your  day  has  passed,  the  sun  of  your 
glory  has  set  to  rise  no  more.  You  are  deposed,  Wat- 
son, and  all  your  feeble  struggles  will  make  no  differ- 
ence now.  King  Jimmy  the  First  is  on  the  throne ! 

"Say,  this  is  a  right  good  lot  of  fun,"  put  in  Jack 
Cunningham;  "but  if  you're  Frank  Merriwell,  you're 
the  very  feller  I'm  lookin'  for." 


King  Jimmy  the  First.  101 

"Looking  for  me  ?"  asked  Frank. 

"Yes." 

"All  right;  I'll  give  you  my  attention  in  a  minute. 
Jimmy,  I  want  that  knot  of  blue  ribbon.  I  believe  it 
will  be  a  mascot  for  me  if  I  wear  it  to-day,  and  I'll 
give  it  back  to  you  to-night." 

Off  came  the  knot  of  ribbon  and  Jimmy  handed  it 
over  to  Frank. 

"I  don't  want  it  back,"  he  declared.  "Keep  it,  won't 
you,  sir?" 

Frank  put  him  down. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I'll  keep  it ;  but  how  can  I  pay  you 
for  it?  If  there  is  anything " 

"I  don't  want  pay ;  but  I'd  like  to  have  something  to 
remember  you  by — anything  you'll  give  me." 

Frank  pinned  Jimmy's  ribbon  to  his  breast,  while 
Jimmy  looked  on  with  mist-dimmed  eyes,  feeling  so 
proud  that  it  did  not  seem  that  there  was  room  enough 
in  his  breast  for  his  swelling  heart. 

Then  Merry  felt  in  his  pockets  for  something.  He 
paused  and  thought  a  moment.  All  at  once  it  came  to 
him,  and  he  quickly  found  a  small  ribbon  badge,  having 
crossed  batsticks  at  the  top,  a  bit  of  blue  with  a  white 
Y  upon  it,  and  a  silver  baseball  dangling  at  the  bottom. 

How  Jimmy's  eyes  danced  when  he  saw  that!  He 
almost  shouted  for  joy.  Then  came  the  apprehension 
that  Frank  did  not  really  and  truly  mean  to  give  it  to 
him,  and  his  heart  stood  still  in  anxious  dread. 

"Will  that  do?"  Merry  asked. 


102  King  Jimmy  the  First. 

"Will  it?"  gasped  Jimmy.  "Will  it  do!  Just  ask 
me!  Oh,  say!  I'll  keep  it  just  as  long  as  I  live!" 

Then  Frank  stooped  and  pinned  it  over  the  heart  of 
the  happiest  and  proudest  boy  south  of  Mason  and 
Dixon's  line. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE     RUNAWAY. 

"Now,  sir,  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?" 

Standing  at  a  distance,  watching  with  anxious  impa- 
tience and  taking  care  to  keep  out  of  sight,  Roland 
Ditson  muttered  a  little  exclamation  of  satisfaction 
as  he  saw  Frank  Merriwell  turn  to  Jack  Cunningham, 
speaking  these  words. 

The  train  was  starting  to  pull  out  from  the  station. 

"I  came  here  to  see  yo',  suh,"  declared  Cunningham, 
turning  his  chew  of  tobacco.  "I've  brought  ye  some- 
thin'." 

"What  is  it?" 

"This." 

He  handed  over  the  forged  letter.  A  moment  later 
Frank  was  reading : 

"DEAR  FRANK  :  I  am  in  serious  trouble,  and  I  wish 
you  to  come  to  me  alone  without  a  moment's  delay.  I 
know  I  shall  not  appeal  to  you  in  vain.  Tell  no  one 
where  you  are  going,  for  I  do  not  wish  it  known  that 
I  would  trouble  you  at  such  a  time,  but  I  must  see  you 
— I  must!  Don't  lose  a  minute!  Mr.  Muldoon  will 
take  you  in  the  carriage  direct  to  the  house  where  I  am 
stopping,  and  you  will  have  plenty  of  time  before  the 
game.  Do  come,  dear  Frank.  Yours,  as  ever, 

"ELSIE." 


IO4  The  Runaway. 

Frank  was  not  looking  for  a  trick,  and  his  hasty 
glance  over  the  letter  gave  him  no  warning  of  anything 
wrong.  Ditson  had  performed  a  very  clever  job  in 
imitating  Elsie  Bellwood's  handwriting. 

Merry  was  aware  that  Elsie  had  returned  from  Flor- 
ida and  was  stopping  in  Charlottesville,  a  fact  which 
Roland  had  somehow  learned,  so  the  note  gave  him  no 
surprise.  He  had  anticipated  seeing  her  while  in  the 
place.  Hodge  also  anticipated  that  pleasure — or  pain. 
She  had  taken  care  to  let  the  knowledge  reach  him 
that  she  was  in  Charlottesville. 

For  a  moment  Merry  seemed  to  hesitate.  In  the 
distance  Ditson  held  his  breath. 

"Will  the  fool  refuse?"  he  inwardly  cried.  "Why, 
no !  for  he  is  in  love  with  the  girl !" 

Frank  turned  to  Cunningham  again. 

"Mr.  Muldoon?"  he  said. 

"Yes,  suh,"  declared  the  ruffian,  though  he  feared 
some  one  might  hear  and  expose  him.  But  Jack  Cun- 
ningham was  known  and  feared  in  Charlottesville. 
And  King  Jimmy  was  proudly  displaying  to  his  admir- 
ing subjects  the  decoration  of  honor  conferred  upon 
him  by  Merriwell  the  Great,  therefore  he  did  not  get 
at  what  was  going  on. 

"You  have  a  carriage  here?"  asked  Frank. 

"Yes,  suh ;  right  over  yander." 

"How  far  must  we  go  ?" 

"Oh,  just  out  beyond  the  town  a  short  distance." 

"How  many  miles  ?" 

"Something  over  two,  perhaps." 


The  Runaway.  105 

Frank  looked  at  his  watch. 

"All  right,"  he  said.  "Fellows,  I'll  have  to  leave 
you  for  a  short  time,  but  I  won't  be  gone  much  over  an 
hour." 

Then  without  further  explanation  he  motioned  for 
Cunningham  to  lead  the  way. 

Roland  Ditson  chuckled  when  he  saw  Frank  follow 
the  ruffian  out  round  the  station  to  the  place  where  the 
team  was  watched  by  a  colored  man. 

"He's  going  into  the  trap !"  muttered  Roland.  "And 
I'll  make  a  big  pot  on  the  ball-game  to-day,  besides  get- 
ting even  with  Merriwell  to  some  extent.  My  fifty 
dollars  to  that  big  whelp  Cunningham  will  be  well 
spent,  for  I'll  make  more  than  five  hundred  if  U.  V. 
beats  Yale  to-day.  And  I  can  get  more  bets,  too,  with 
plenty  of  odds,  for  it  seems  the  general  impression  that 
Yale  is  bound  to  win,  for  all  of  Paragon's  skill  as  a 
pitcher." 

He  had  taken  pains  not  to  explain  to  his  hired  tool 
his  full  reason  for  wishing  to  get  Merriwell  out  of  the 
way,  well  knowing  Cunningham  would  strike  him  for 
more  money  if  he  knew  he  was  to  win  a  large  sum  if 
Yale  met  with  defeat. 

"All  right,  Sam,"  said  Cunningham,  as  he  took  the 
reins.  "Here's  a  plug  of  tobacco  for  you." 

He  threw  a  piece  of  tobacco  toward  the  colored  man, 
who  caught  it  skilfully. 

"Thank  yo',  suh,"  grinned  the  negro.  "Dat  off  hoss 
am  po'erful  nervous,  suh,  when  der  cayars  come  along, 
suh." 


io6  The  Runaway. 

"Jump  right  in,  Mr.  Merriwell,"  invited  Cunning- 
ham. 

Frank  did  so,  and  the  ruffian  followed  suit,  swinging 
the  horses  toward  the  road  that  led  from  the  station. 

The  Yale  men  had  started  for  the  nearest  hotel,  fol- 
lowed by  a  throng  of  men  and  boys,  both  white  and 
black.  At  the  head  of  this  throng  marched  King 
Jimmy,  with  his  head  erect  and  the  Yale  badge  secure 
upon  his  breast.  After  him  flocked  his  new  subjects, 
while  behind  them  walked  the  deposed  king,  Scrubby 
Watson,  with  his  hands  thrust  into  his  pockets,  his  hat 
pulled  over  his  eyes,  and  his  entire  aspect  one  of  hope- 
less dejection. 

Jimmy  stared  as  Cunningham's  team  went  past  with 
Frank  Merriwell  seated  beside  the  sandy-haired  giant, 
then  off  came  the  little  fellow's  hat  in  a  profound  sa- 
lute. 

And  off  came  the  caps  of  the  followers  of  King 
Jimmy. 

Frank  waved  his  hand,  and  away  went  the  team 
through  the  outskirts  of  Charlottesville,  soon  turning 
from  the  town  to  the  country. 

April  in  Virginia  is  fair  and  beautiful.  The  world 
was  green  and  fresh,  and  in  the  purple  haze  of  the  west 
the  Blue  Ridge  rose  against  the  sky.  Frank  drew  in 
great  breaths  of  the  pure  air,  his  eyes  glowing  as  he 
looked  about  at  the  attractive  scene.  The  negro  huts 
were  picturesque,  and  the  colored  men  and  women 
smoking  in  the  shade,  with  dancing  pickaninnies  here 
and  there,  were  sights  to  delight  the  eye  of  an  artist. 


The  Runaway.  107 

"Beautiful !"  said  Frank. 

"Hey?"  grunted  Cunningham. 

"I  say  this  is  a  beautiful  section." 

"Yes,  I  s'pose  it  is." 

"I  presume  it  does  not  look  as  beautiful  to  you  be- 
cause of  long  familiarity  with  it." 

"I  dunno.    I  ain't  been  here  so  long,  yo'  see." 

"Haven't  ?    Are  you  employed  by  the  Parkers  ?" 

"The  Parkers?    No,  suh." 

"Then  how  does  it  happen  that  you  came  to  the  sta- 
tion forme?" 

"Oh,"  said  Cunningham,  "she  just  asked  me,  an'  I 
come.  I'd  do  anything  fo'  her,  suh." 

"That  is  likely.  Any  one  who  knows  Miss  Bellwood 
is  usually  ready  to  do  anything  possible  for  her.  Is 
this  your  own  team,  Mr.  Muldoon?" 

"Yes,  suh.  Great  pair  of  hosses.  Git,  there,  De- 
mon !  Hi,  there,  Ginger !  Yes !  Take  'er  out !" 

Cunningham  cracked  his  whip  over  the  horses,  and 
put  them  both  into  a  mad  run,  while  with  a  leering 
grin  he  looked  sideways  at  Frank  to  see  the  college 
chap  get  pale  and  frightened. 

"What  do  yo'  think  of  this  fer  goin'  ?"  he  demanded. 

"Oh,  it's  fair,"  answered  Frank,  "but  you  haven't 
the  right  kind  of  a  carriage  for  it." 

"Hey?"  roared  Cunningham,  in  astonishment. 
"Ain't  you  satisfied  with  this  ?  Well,  I'll  touch  'em  up 
a  little  more,  suh !" 

Then  he  rose  to  his  feet  and — swish,  cut !  swish,  cut ! 
— the  whin  whistled  through  the  air  and  twined  about 


io8  The  Runaway. 

the  horses.  The  animals  tried  to  go  out  of  their  ha*- 
nesses,  and  the  carriage  careened  along  the  road  at  a 
wild  rate  of  speed. 

But  when  Cunningham  looked  to  see  the  effect  on 
his  companion  he  was  astonished  to  discover  that  the 
"college  chap"  was  still  unruffled  and  serene. 

"How  does  this  suit  yo',  sun?"  inquired  the  ruffian. 

"This  is  very  fair,  if  your  horses  can  do  no  better." 

"Almighty  gizzards !"  gasped  the  brother  of  the  no- 
torious Blue  Ridge  outlaw.  "What  do  you  want, 
suh?" 

"I  wouldn't  whip  the  horses  any  more,  if  I  were 
you,"  said  Frank  quietly.  "They  are  already  doing 
their  level  best.  Besides,  it  is  cruel  to  hit  them  that 
way." 

This  seemed  to  make  the  man  furious,  for  he 
shouted : 

"I  judge,  suh,  I  have  a  right  to  hit  my  own  hosses  f 
I'll  give  yo'  the  liveliest  ride  yo'  evah  took,  by  smoke !" 

Then  he  arose  and  cut  both  the  frightened  horses 
again.  The  animals  made  a  mad  leap,  and — snap! — 
one  of  the  reins  broke  in  Cunningham's  hand. 

The  angry  man  dropped  back  with  a  gasp. 

"Good  Lord !"  he  said.  "The  rein  is  broke,  an'  them 
critters  are  going  to  raise  some  dust  now!  Whilli- 
kens !  what  a  scrape !" 

Now  he  showed  alarm  himself,  but  still  the  youth 
at  his  side  was  perfectly  calm. 

"You  made  a  fool  of  yourself,  Mr.  Muldoon," 


The  Runaway.  109 

grimly  observed.  "In  your  attempt  to  frighten  me  you 
have  done  a  very  bad  job." 

"Them  hosses  will  never  stop  runnin'  now  till 
they've  smashed  thunder  out  of  this  rig!"  the  man  ob- 
served. "Yo'  had  better  jump  for  it,  youngster." 

Then,  from  another  road,  an  old  negro  appeared, 
seated  on  a  wabble-wheeled  cart  and  driving  a  decrepit 
horse.  The  colored  man  turned  into  the  road  directly 
in  front  of  them. 

"Jump!"  yelled  Cunningham.  "Things  are  goin'  to 
smash  in  a  jiffy!  Jump!" 

He  rose  to  leap  out,  but  Frank's  strong  hand  grasped 
him  and  flung  him  back  on  the  seat,  while  Frank's  clear 
voice  rang  out: 

"If  you  want  to  escape  a  broken  leg  or  neck  keep 
still !  There  is  one  chance  to  stop  the  horses !" 

Then,  having  risen  to  his  feet,  with  a  long  clean  leap 
he  flung  himself  over  the  dasher  of  the  carriage  and 
landed  astride  of  the  "near"  horse. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

IN    THE   TRAP. 

The  astounded  man  expected  to  see  the  college  youth 
flung  headlong  to  the  ground,  but  to  his  still  greater 
amazement,  Frank  landed  fairly  on  the  back  of  the 
horse,  where  he  clung  with  perfect  ease. 

But  not  a  moment  was  to  be  lost,  for  they  were  close 
upon  the  old  negro,  who  was  vainly  trying  to  rein  his 
horse  out  of  the  road.  Still,  Frank  Merriwell  did  not 
seem  at  all  nervous  or  excited.  With  a  swift,  sure 
grasp  he  caught  both  the  reins  and  then  he  turned  the 
madly  running  horses  to  one  side. 

Just  in  time.  One  of  the  carriage  hubs  clicked 
against  the  car  as  they  whirled  past.  But  a  catastrophe 
had  been  averted  for  the  time,  at  least. 

Jack  Cunningham  stared  as  the  "college  chap"  clung 
to  the  galloping  horses,  drawing  strong  and  sure  on 
the  reins,  and  talking  in  soothing  tones  to  the  badly 
frightened  animals. 

It  was  a  revelation  to  Cunningham,  but  he  had  no 
hope  that  the  youth  would  be  able  to  handle  and  stop 
the  runaways. 

However,  although  not  seeming  to  be  making  great 
efforts  to  stop  them,  Merriwell  continued  to  talk  to  the 
terrified  creatures,  his  voice  rhythmical,  soothing,  and 
pleasant. 


In  the  Trap.  jn 

For  a  considerable  distance  the  runaways  continued 
at  their  mad  pace,  but  at  last  they  began  to  slacken  little 
by  little,  reassured  and  checked  by  that  soothing  voice. 

And  so,  watched  by  the  amazed  man  in  the  carriage, 
Frank  slowly  quieted  them  down  until  he  was  able  to 
bring  them  to  a  halt  upon  the  road,  although  they  were 
trembling  and  nervous. 

Merry  had  them  by  the  heads  the  moment  they 
stopped,  having  leaped  to  the  ground. 

Jack  Cunningham  jumped  out  of  the  wagon,  declar- 
ing, in  very  picturesque  language,  that  the  trick  had 
been  well  done. 

"Yo'  must  have  been  raised  with  hosses,  young  fel- 
ler ?"  said  the  wondering  ruffian. 

"Not  exactly,"  said  Frank,  "but  I  have  had  some  ex- 
perience with  them,  and  I  have  learned  that  no  sensible 
man  ever  uses  a  whip  on  a  horse  without  reason." 

"Do  yo'  mean  to  call  me  a  fool,  youngster?" 

"Well,  I  did  not  state  it  in  exactly  that  language,  but 
I  think  you  were  foolish  to  whip  the  horses  in  order  to 
try  to  frighten  me.  That  is  plain." 

Cunningham  glared  at  Merry,  longing  to  put  his 
hands  on  the  cool  youth  who  dared  talk  to  him  thus 
plainly. 

"That's  sassy!"  he  growled. 

"But  it's  true,  Mr.  Muldoon." 

"Well,  I  don't  'low  everybody  to  tell  me  the  truth, 
so  yo'  had  better  be  careful  in  the  future." 

"As  long  as  it  is  my  misfortune  to  be  in  your  society, 
I  shall  not  hesitate  to  tell  you  the  truth,  sir." 


!I2  In  the  Trap. 

Frank  was  gently  stroking  the  muzzles  of  the  horses 
and  patting  their  necks  while  he  talked,  and  the  ani- 
mals became  calmer  and  calmer  beneath  his  touch. 

"Well,  yo'  are  a  mighty  queer  chap!"  blurted  Cun- 
ningham, who  was  beginning  to  realize  that  he  did  not 
understand  Merriwell  at  all. 

"Splice  that  rein  somehow,"  said  Frank,  "and  we'll 
go  on,  for  I  have  no  time  to  waste." 

When  the  horses  were  thoroughly  quieted,  Cunning- 
ham found  a  piece  of  stout  twine  in  his  pocket.  Merri- 
well had  a  jack-knife  that  was  also  a  handy  kit  of  tools, 
and  with  these  the  rein  was  securely  spliced,  Frank  do- 
ing most  of  the  work. 

"Yo'  are  clever  at  some  things,"  the  ruffian  was 
forced  to  confess;  "an'  I  judge  yo'  don't  scare  very 
easy." 

To  this  Frank  deigned  no  retort,  but  asked : 

"How  much  farther  have  we  to  go  ?" 

"Not  more  than  a  mile,  suh." 

"A  mile  ?  Why,  you  said  it  was  not  over  two  miles 
at  the  start,  and  I'm  sure  we've  covered  a  longer  dis- 
tance than  that  already." 

"Well,  suh,  Virginyah  miles  are  pretty  long." 

"I  should  say  so !  Well,  make  it  as  soon  as  you  can, 
for  I  must  get  back  to  town,  but  don't  use  your  whip 
on  the  horses  again." 

Frank  vaulted  lightly  into  the  carriage,  and  Cun- 
ningham followed  him.  Then  they  drove  along  once 
more.  Reaching  a  piece  of  timber,  they  turned  into  a 
road  that  seemed  little  used.  After  driving  some  dis' 


In  the  Trap.  113 

tance  they  came  in  sight  of  a  ramshackle-looking  house 
with  some  outbuildings  near. 

"Is  that  the  place?"  asked  Frank  wonderingly. 

"Yes,  suh ;  that's  the  place,"  averred  Cunningham. 
"The  girl  is  waiting  for  yo'  there." 

Elsie  in  such  a  place  as  that !  It  seemed  impossible. 
No  wonder  she  had  appealed  to  Frank  for  help !  She 
must  be  in  dire  distress. 

But  was  this  the  home  of  the  rich  Mrs.  Parker  with 
whom  Elsie  had  been  traveling  in  the  South  ?  It  could 
not  be ! 

"Does  Mrs.  Parker  live  here?" 

"Yes,  I  reckon  that's  her  name,"  answered  the  man. 
Then  he  gave  a  sharp  whistle,  ana  a  colored  man 
loafed  deliberately  round  a  corner  of  the  old  house. 

"Take  care  of  the  hosses,  Toby,"  ordered  Cunning- 
ham. "You  know  what  to  do,  you  black  rascal.  Give 
them  a  good  rubbing  down,  or  I'll  tan  your  hide!" 

"Yes,  suh;  all  right,  suh!"  said  Toby,  moving  with 
greater  alacrity  when  he  recognized  the  man  in  the  car- 
riage. 

Cunningham  jumped  out. 

"Come  on,  suh,"  he  said  to  Frank. 

Feeling  bewildered,  as  well  as  dismayed,  Frank 
obeyed. 

Where  was  Elsie?  Why  did  she  not  appear  at  the 
deor  to  welcome  him?  Perhaps  she  was  ill!  The 
thought  was  startling.  He  had  not  asked  "Muldoon" 
about  that. 


H4  In  the  Trap. 

"Come  right  in,"  invited  Cunningham,  as  he  led  the 
way. 

Frank  followed.  The  front  door  had  been  closed, 
but  Cunningham  thrust  it  open  and  entered.  When 
that  door  closed  with  a  bang  behind  Frank,  a  sudden 
presentiment  of  danger  seized  upon  him. 

Up  to  that  time  there  had  been  nothing  to  arouse 
his  suspicions,  and,  knowing  Elsie  was  in  Charlottes- 
ville,  it  is  not  at  all  strange  that  he  had  failed  to  pene- 
trate the  deception.  Had  there  seemed  to  be  any  rea- 
son why  any  one  should  wish  to  do  him  harm,  Merri- 
well  would  have  been  on  his  guard  before,  and  it  is 
certain  he  must  have  penetrated  Cunningham's  trick- 
ery. 

Now,  having  proceeded  thus  far,  Frank  quickly  re- 
solved to  see  the  matter  through.  He  would  not  re- 
treat until  he  knew  what  was  "doing,"  but  he  would 
be  on  his  guard. 

"She's  up-stairs,"  said  Cunningham. 

Up-stairs  Frank  followed  the  ruffian,  striding  along1 
in  advance  in  a  careless  manner. 

"She's  right  in  this  room,"  declared  the  man,  fling- 
ing open  a  door.  "Walk  in." 

But  Frank  did  not  walk.  In  that  room  he  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  two  men  who  were  playing  cards 
at  a  rough  table. 

Instantly  Cunningham  turned  round  and  grasped 
Merry's  collar. 

"Walk  in!"  he  repeated  commandingly.  "Here, 
Ben,  I've  got  a  visitor  to  see  yo'." 


In  the  Trap.  115 

"Remove  your  hand!"  said  Frank,  in  a  low,  cold 
tone.  "Remove  it  instantly!" 

And  then,  when  Cunningham  failed  to  obey,  Merry- 
struck  the  man  a  blow  that  sent  him  up  against  the  par- 
tition with  a  terrible  thud  that  seemed  to  shake  the 
whole  house. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

CUNNINGHAM    MEETS   HIS    MASTER. 

But  Jack  Cunningham  had  a  hard  head,  and  he  was 
not  a  man  to  be  knocked  out  by  the  first  blow.  Some- 
how he  continued  to  cling  to  Frank's  collar. 

Recovering  quickly  from  the  shock  of  Merry's  blow, 
he  uttered  a  snarl  and  swung  back.  Frank  ducked,  and 
the  huge  fist  of  the  giant  went  over  his  shoulder. 

The  two  men  who  had  been  playing  cards  came  run- 
ning out. 

"Hey,  Jack,  what's  the  matter  ?"  they  cried.  "Want 
some  help?" 

"No,  I  don't  want  any  help!"  roared  Cunningham. 
"Just  yo'  keep  back  an'  watch  me  knock  some  of  the 
conceit  out  of  this  college  chap." 

Then  he  gave  Frank  a  thrust  away  and  spat  on  his 
hands. 

"I'm  goin'  to  everlastingly  knock  the  corners  off  yo', 
youngster!"  he  declared.  "Yo'  thumped  me,  an'  no 
man  ever  does  that  without  gittin'  licked,  and  licked 
good!" 

Frank  saw  that  he  was  in  for  a  hand-to-hand  en- 
counter with  the  big  ruffian. 

Knowing  now  that  he  had  been  tricked  and  brought 
to  that  old  house  for  some  evil  reason,  Merry  was 


Cunningham  Meets  His  Master.       117 

inwardly  seething-  with  anger,  though  outwardly  he 
seemed  perfectly  cool. 

"Before  we  engage  in  this  little  racket,"  he  said, 
"supposing  you  tell  me  what  your  name  is.  I'm  all  in 
the  dark.  Why  have  you  lied  to  me  and  brought  me 
out  here?" 

"Oh,  just  to  have  fun  with  yo',"  declared  Cunning-- 
ham, tearing  off  his  coat  and  flinging  it  down.  "Yo' 
are  a  conceited  college  chap,  an'  I've  taken  all  this 
bother  just  to  have  a  good  chance  to  thump  some  of 
the  conceit  out  of  yo'." 

"Muldoon,  I  told  you  when  you  used  the  whip  on 
your  horses  that  you  were  a  fool,  but  now  I  am  forced 
to  add  that  you  are  a  liar!" 

"Muldoon  ?"  cried  one  of  the  other  men.  "What's 
he  callin'  yo'  that  fer,  Jack?" 

"Why,  because  I'm  Muldoon,  brother  to  the  strong- 
man," returned  Cunningham.  "An'  I'm  goin'  to  break 
this  feller  plumb  in  two.  Look  out,  youngster!" 

The  upper  hall,  like  the  lower,  was  wide  and  roomy, 
giving  them  a  very  fair  chance  for  the  battle. 

Cunningham  rushed  at  Merry,  but  Frank  side- 
stepped, avoiding  him  easily,  and  he  gave  the  fellow  a 
body-blow  that  knocked  a  great  puff  of  wind  out  of 
him. 

"Stand  up,  hang  yo'!"  grunted  Cunningham.  "Don't 
try  any  of  yoah  monkey-tricks !" 

"He  hit  you  a  thumper,  Jack !"  cried  one  of  the 
watching  men. 


n8      Cunningham  Meets  His  Master. 

Cunningham  recovered,  but  he  was  surprised  when 
the  beardless  youth  took  the  initiative  and  came  at  him, 
leaping  aside  and  then  diving  in. 

Once  more  Frank  landed,  and  this  time  his  hard 
knuckles  cut  the  cheek  of  the  man  who  had  led  him 
into  the  trap. 

"Why  don't  you  smash  him,  Jack?"  shouted  the 
watching  men. 

"I'm  goin'  to!"  was  the  fierce  retort.  "Just  you 
see!" 

But  he  soon  found  it  was  not  such  an  easy  task  to 
"smash"  the  young  Yale  athlete,  who  was  a  scientific 
boxer  and  knew  all  the  tricks  of  the  professional 
fighter.  Just  when  Cunningham  thought  he  had  the 
youth  cornered — biff!  biff!  biff! — he  got  it  in  such 
swift  succession  that  he  was  dazed  and  the  nimble- 
footed  lad  slipped  away.  It  was  not  long  before  the 
ruffian  began  to  lose  his  head  and  try  to  "rush." 

"Steady,  Jack !"  shouted  one  of  the  men.  "Yo*  can't 
do  him  that  way !" 

"I'll  kill  him!"  grated  Cunningham.  "I'll  smash 
him!" 

"Smash  him !"  shouted  the  men  again. 

Not  a  word  came  from  the  youth,  whose  lips  were 
pressed  together,  whose  jaws  were  set,  and  whose  eyes 
flashed. 

Frank  was  determined  to  punish  this  man  for  the 
trick,  and  he  soon  had  the  fellow's  face  bruised  and 
bleeding  in  a  dozen  places.  But  Cunningham  was  hard 
as  iron,  and  he  possessed  the  "wind"  and  endurance 


Cunningham  Meets  His  Master.       119 

of  a  mountaineer.    It  was  not  an  easy  thing  to  wear 
such  a  man  out. 

Once  Merriwell  found  a  good  opening,  went  in,  his 
fists  flashed,  and  the  man  went  down  heavily.  One 
of  the  ruffian's  companions  assisted  him  to  rise,  say- 
ing: 

"We'll  all  jump  on  him,  Jack!  We'll  do  him  in 
short  order!" 

"Keep  off!"  roared  the  giant,  his  eyes  gleaming 
fiercely,  while  blood  began  to  trickle  from  his  chin. 
"No  whiskerless  kid  like  that  can  whip  Jack  Cunning- 
ham!" 

He  swept  his  would-be  assistant  back  with  one  arm 
and  advanced  on  Merriwell  again. 

"Dern  yo'!"  he  panted,  his  great  breast  heaving. 
"What  right  have  yo'  to  fight  like  this !  You're  noth- 
ing but  a  boy !" 

No  reply.  The  college  youth  was  standing  there,  his 
arms  hanging  by  his  sides,  his  bosom  not  seeming  to 
heave  to  any  great  extent  from  the  exertion.  He  was 
utterly  fearless  in  his  aspect,  causing  those  men  to 
wonder  greatly,  for  never  before  had  they  encountered 
a  lad  just  like  this  one. 

If  there  was  anything  Frank  Merriwell  detested  it 
was  fighting;  but  he  had  perfected  himself  in  the  art 
of  self-defense  for  such  an  occasion  as  this,  and  now, 
highly  indignant  at  the  deception  practised  upon  him, 
he  was  resolved  to  teach  this  ruffian  a  lesson. 

Had  Merriwell  not  been  a  skilful  boxer  he  must  have 


120      Cunningham  Meets  His  Master. 

fallen  before  the  savage  assaults  of  the  ruffian  long  be- 
fore this. 

Could  he  defeat  Cunningham,  he  felt  that  he  would 
then  be  ready  to  meet  the  other  men,  even  though  they 
both  came  at  him  at  once,  for  something  told  him  they 
were  no  such  savage  fighters  as  the  man  with  whom 
he  was  battling. 

Frank  did  not  wait  for  Cunningham,  but  suddenly 
his  hands  went  up  and  he  sprang  forward.  The  ruffian 
was  on  guard,  but  Merry  quickly  retreated,  without  of- 
fering to  strike  a  blow. 

Then  the  man  did  the  very  thing  Frank  had  hoped- 
to  lead  him  into.  He  rushed  once  more. 

The  youth  halted  and  met  that  rush.  Cunningham 
struck  a  ponderous  blow,  but  the  Yale  youth's  head 
went  to  the  left  and  the  hairy  fist  shot  over  his  shoul- 
der. Frank's  left  fist  landed  on  the  man's  ribs.  Had 
Cunningham  been  stripped  it  would  have  proved  a 
much  more  effective  blow,  but  as  it  was  his  ribs  seemed 
to  crack. 

"Oh!"  grunted  the  watching  men. 

Cunningham  stood  stock-still,  an  expression  of  pain 
on  his  face.  Frank  had  gone  under  his  arm  and 
whirled,  and  he  struck  again,  hitting  his  opponent  in 
the  back  of  the  neck,  almost  at  the  base. 

With  outstretched  arms,  the  ruffian  staggered  for- 
ward and  was  caught  in  the  arms  of  one  of  his  friends. 

"That  was  an  awful  one,  Jack !"  gasped  this  man. 
"Better  let  us  fix  him !" 


Cunningham  Meets  His  Master.       121 

"Keep  off!"  cried  the  giant  once  more.  "Jack  Cun- 
ningham can't  have  it  said  he  was  licked  by  a  kid !" 

Frank  was  waiting  when  he  turned.  For  a  mo- 
ment Merry  fancied  the  ruffian  thought  of  drawing 
a  weapon,  but  it  is  possible  that  Cunningham's  pride 
kept  him  from  being  forced  to  use  a  knife  in  order  to 
do  up  an  unarmed  lad. 

"Yo're  the  devil!"  snarled  the  man;  "but  I'll  finish 
yo'  yet !" 

Indeed,  he  recuperated  quickly,  soon  being  ready  to 
resume  the  fight. 

"That  kid  in  town  said  yo'  could  fight,"  muttered 
the  man ;  "but  I  didn't  believe  it.  He  was  right,  but  I 
swear  I'll  down  yo'  in  the  end !" 

Now,  however,  Merriwell  closed  in  on  the  man  and 
gave  him  not  a  moment's  rest.  He  saw  that  the  only 
way  to  put  Cunningham  out  was  to  never  let  up  until 
able  to  strike  the  knock-out  blow. 

The  man  had  learned  a  very  painful  lesson,  and  he 
was  not  as  careless  as  he  had  been ;  but  the  skill  of  the 
athletic  young  boxer  was  far  too  much  for  him. 

Again  and  again  Frank  reached  Cunningham's  face, 
which  would  bear  the  marks  of  that  encounter  for 
many  days.  One  of  the  man's  eyes  was  swelling  fast, 
threatening  to  close  entirely. 

Again  Cunningham's  friends  begged  to  be  permitted 
to  take  a  hand,  plainly  not  daring  to  strike  in  without 
permission  as  long  as  he  remained  on  his  feet. 

Frank  gave  the  ruffian  no  chance  to  reply.    He  was 


122       Cunningham  Meets  His  Master. 

pressing  Cunningham  hard.  A  blow  that  reached  the 
'fellow's  solar  plexus  caused  his  hands  to  fall. 

Then  Merriwell  found  the  opening  he  wanted,  and 
he  struck  Cunningham  a  fearful  blow  on  the  point  of 
the  jaw. 

The  ruffian  went  down — and  "out." 

But  as  he  fell  one  of  his  mates  struck  Frank  over 
the  head  with  a  piece  of  lead  pipe  that  was  wrapped 
about  with  several  folds  of  cloth. 

Struck  down  in  this  cowardly  manner  from  behind, 
the  champion  athlete  of  Yale  fell  limply  across  the  body 
of  the  ruffian  he  had  whipped. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

BART     AND     ELSIE. 

In  the  suburbs  of  Charlottesville,  sitting  at  the  win- 
dow of  a  handsome  house,  was  a  pretty,  blue-eyed,  fair- 
haired  girl,  whose  sweet  face  told  of  the  great  beauty 
of  her  character. 

The  window  at  which  the  girl  sat  commanded  a 
view  of  the  distant  highway  and  the  winding  walk  that 
led  up  from  the  gate  through  the  shrubbery  of  a  beau- 
tiful garden  lawn. 

The  girl  was  watching  the  road  and  the  walk,  her 
face  expressing  both  eagerness  and  anxiety.  She  sur- 
veyed every  pedestrian  that  passed  along  the  street,  and 
her  heart  fluttered,  sending  the  pink  flush  of  hope  into 
her  cheeks,  when  a  swiftly  driven  carriage  appeared 
coming  rapidly  along  the  street.  The  flush  died  when 
the  carriage  passed,  and  a  sigh  of  disappointment  es- 
caped her. 

The  girl  was  Elsie  Bellwood,  looking  fairer  and 
sweeter  than  ever,  if  possible. 

"Will  he  come  ?"  she  murmured. 

Of  whom  was  she  thinking?  Was  it  Frank  Mem- 
well,  or 

Two  persons  appeared,  coming  from  another,  street, 
and  soon  turned  in  by  the  gate  to  the  grounds  of  the 
handsome  mansion. 


124  Bart  and  Elsie. 

One  of  them  was  a  sturdy-looking  boy  with  freckled 
face,  who  walked  proudly,  carrying  his  head  high, 
while  upon  his  outthrust  chest  might  be  seen  what  to 
him  was  far  more  precious  than  the  medal  of  the  Le- 
gion of  Honor — a  Yale  baseball-badge. 

The  other  was  dark-eyed,  dark-haired,  finely 
formed,  handsome,  stern.  Bart  Hodge  was  coming, 
escorted  and  directed  by  King  Jimmy  the  First. 

The  girl  was  standing  on  the  broad  veranda,  a  bright 
smile  on  her  face,  when  they  came  up. 

"There  she  is,  suh,"  said  King  Jimmy,  taking  off  his 
torn  old  hat,  pressing  his  hand  to  his  heart,  over  which 
hung  that  ensign  of  royalty,  and  bowing  low  with 
courtly  grace.  "This  is  Miss  Bellwood,  suh." 

Bart  Hodge  did  not  speak.  His  face  was  very  pale, 
but  there  was  a  glowing  light  in  his  dark  eyes.  She 
held  out  her  hands  to  him,  and  they  trembled  a  little. 

"Bart,"  she  said,  "I  am  so  glad  to  see  you !" 

With  a  bound  he  went  up  the  steps  to  the  veranda, 
he  clasped  those  small  hands  in  a  grasp  that  was  al- 
most crushing,  he  looked  deep  into  her  open  blue  eyes, 
as  if  he  would  read  her  very  soul. 

"Are  you  glad — are  you  really  glad?"  he  breathed, 
his  strong  body  beginning  to  shake  a  little  in  spite  of 
his  efforts  to  hold  himself  in  control. 

"I  am  really  and  truly  glad,  Bart,"  she  honestly  an- 
swered, and  who  could  doubt  the  sincerity  of  Elsie 
Bellwood  when  she  spoke  like  that ! 

He  longed  to  clasp  her  in  his  arms,  to  hold  her  to 


Bart  and  Elsie.  125 

his  throbbing  heart  as  he  had  in  that  terrible  yet  joy- 
ous moment  on  the  burning  steamer  when  he  poured 
into  her  ears  the  tale  of  his  long-smothered  love.  He 
longed  to  hold  her  thus  and  press  a  kiss  on  those  sweet 
lips — to  smother  that  beautiful  mouth  in  kisses. 

But  Bart  Hodge,  who  had  once  been  unable  to  gov- 
ern himself  and  his  desires,  had  learned  the  value  and 
art  of  self-control  from  his  dearest  friend,  Frank  Mer- 
riwell,  so  that  he  now  was  able  to  hold  himself  in 
check. 

But  the  eyes  of  King  Jimmy  were  keen,  and  the 
tact  of  King  Jimmy  was  great,  for  he  deliberately 
turned  his  back  upon  them  and  seemed  intensely  and 
wondrously  interested  in  the  beauties  of  the  well-culti- 
vated lawn  and  the  efforts  of  the  gardener  who  was 
laboring  on  a  distant  flower-bed.  But  to  himself  the 
king  whispered : 

"My  stars !  but  ain't  he  just  completely  smashed  on 
her!  It's  a  dead  gone  case!" 

Elsie  read  the  truth  of  Bart's  continued  love  in  his 
looks ;  she  realized  that  it  had  grown  still  stronger  and 
deeper.  If  she  had  hoped  that  he  would  put  it  away 
from  him  she  now  saw  that  there  was  no  possibility  of 
his  making  an  effort  to  do  such  a  thing.  And,  while  it 
enchanted  her,  still  there  was  a  strange  intensity  about 
it  that  made  her  afraid. 

Still,  a  man  who  could  love  like  this  was  a  man  who 
would  make  a  most  devoted  husband.  He  would  be 
ready  to  shield  from  all  harm  the  prize  he  had  won, 
He  would  devote  the  remainder  of  his  life  to  her  with- 


ia6  Bart  and  Elsie. 

out  reservation  and  without  selfishness,  no  matter 
what  his  past  record  showed  him  to  be. 

At  least,  thoughts  like  these  flitted  vaguely  through 
the  mind  of  the  girl  who  had  met  him  there  upon  the 
veranda  of  that  beautiful  Virginian  home. 

"Yes,  I'm  awfully  glad  you've  come!"  declared 
Elsie,  smiling  even  though  it  seemed  that  he  would 
crush  her  slender  fingers  in  his  fierce,  thoughtless 
grasp.  "But  where  is — Frank  ?" 

He  dropped  her  hands  suddenly. 

"Frank?"  he  said,  and  there  was  a  strange  hoarse- 
ness in  his  voice.  "You  are  disappointed  because  he 
did  not  come  instead  of  me!" 

"Crickets !"  thought  His  Royal  Highness,  still  main- 
taining his  position  with  his  back  toward  them,  al- 
though he  would  have  given  the  wealth  of  half  hi? 
kingdom  to  peep  at  them  then.  "That  feller  is  jealous ! 
My !  my !  but  he's  a  hot  one !" 

"Oh,  no!"  Elsie  quickly  declared,  putting  both  her 
hands  on  Bart's  arms  and  looking  again  into  his  eyes ; 
"not  that.  I  am  disappointed  because  he  did  not  come 
with  you." 

"Wonder  which  one  she's  worse  smashed  on,"  spec- 
ulated the  king  to  himself.  "Frank?  Why,  she  must 
mean  Frank  Merriwell!  Jeroosalam!  If  that's  the 
case,  this  feller  don't  stand  a  ghost  of  a  show !  Why, 
of  course  she  cares  most  for  Frank !" 

King  Jimmy  the  First  was  loyal  to  the  core. 

"Do  you  wish  to  see  him  so  much  ?"  asked  Hodge, 
still  with  the  wound  of  jealousy  rankling  in  his  heart. 


Bart  and  Elsie.  127 

"Of  course  I  do,  Bart.  You  know  what  a  true 
friend  he  has  been  to  me.  You  know  I  never  could 
have  obtained  my  fortune  if  it  had  not  been  for  him. 
You  know  he  has  saved  my  life  more  than  once." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  muttered  Hodge.  "I  know  he  saved 
your  life  that  time  when  he  was  rowing  with  you  and 
Inza.  When  the  boat  was  capsized,  he  saved  you,  in- 
stead of  Inza.  Why  did  he  do  that  unless  he  loved 
you  most  ?" 

"How  foolish  you  are,  Bart!  It  is  always  Frank's 
way  to  help  first  those  less  able  to  help  themselves.  He 
did  so  in  that  case." 

"It  was  his  choice  between  you !" 

"Nonsense !  It  was  nothing  of  the  sort !  Inza  is  an 
athletic  girl,  and  he  knew  she  was  a  splendid  swimmer, 
therefore  she  was  better  able  to  take  care  of  herself.  At 
least,  he  thought  so,  and  that  was  why  he  came  to  my 
rescue  first.  Now,  don't  be  foolish,  Bart — please 
don't!" 

Their  loyal  companion,  still  standing  with  his  back 
toward  them,  was  forgotten  for  the  time  being.  But 
his  ears  were  wide  open,  and  his  wisdom  that  had 
made  him  king  was  brought  to  bear  on  this  case. 

"That's  what  she  thinks  about  it,"  he  mentally  com- 
mented. "She's  honest  in  thinkin'  so,  but  I  guess  sfae's 
wrong.  If  Frank  saved  her  first,  I'll  bet  my  new  pair 
of  suspenders  that  she's  the  one  he's  most  stuck  on." 

However,  even  the  wisdom  of  a  king  may  sometimes 
be  unwise. 


128  Bart  and  Elsie. 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,"  admitted  Hodge;  "but  I 
don't  believe  it.  Let's  not  talk  of  that." 

"That's  where  you're  sensible,  young  feller,"  whis- 
pered James  the  First  to  himself.  "If  you  want  to 
stand  the  least  show,  don't  get  her  to  sizing  you  up 
alongside  of  Frank  Merriwell,  'cause  you  ain't  in  it  for 
a  minute.  You're  a  pretty  good  feller,  but  yo'  ain't  in 
his  class,  suh." 

"But  I  wrote — I  wanted  him  to  come,  you  know," 
said  Elsie,  with  some  hesitation.  "I  suppose  he  was  so 
busy  he  did  not  have  time,  but  I'll  see  him  at  the  game 
this  afternoon." 

"I  don't  understand  just  what  happened,"  said  Bart, 
"but  a  man — a  big,  red-headed  fellow " 

"Regular  darned  old  pirate!"  was  King  Jimmy's 
unspoken  comment. 

" met  him  at  the  station  when  we  arrived," 

Hodge  went  on,  "and  gave  him  a  letter.  Frank  read 
it,  told  us  he  must  leave  us  for  a  while,  jumped  into  a 
double  team  with  the  man,  and  was  driven  off.  He 
didn't  tell  a  soul  where  he  was  going  or  anything  about 
it.  It's  rather  queer,  I  think." 

Elsie  looked  suddenly  worried. 

"I'm  afraid,  Bart,"  she  said,  "that  something  is 
wrong." 

"Wrong?    Why?    What  can  be  wrong?" 

"Well,  I  don't  just  know,  but  my  heart  seems  to  tell 
me  that  Frank  is  in  serious  trouble." 

"Jee-whill-i-kins !"  gasped  King  Jimmy,  almost  stag- 
gering with  the  shock.  "I  wonder  if  that's  so!" 


Bart  and  Elsie.  129 

"What  trouble  cculd  he  get  into  here  ?"  said  Hodge. 
"He  has  no  enemy  who  would  wish  to  do  him  harm — 
that  is,  none  in  this  place." 

"Yes  he  has !'"  exclaimed  Elsie  earnestly. 

"Has?" 

"Yes." 

"Why,  who " 

"One  of  his  old  enemies  at  college  is  right  here  in 
this  place!" 

"Great  horn  spoon!"  muttered  the  now  thoroughly 
excited  king.  "This  is  getting  mighty  interesting." 

"Who  is  it?"  asked  Bart,  also  interested. 

"Do  you  remember  Roland  Ditson?" 

"Do  I?  I  should  say  I  did!  Why,  he  was  one  of 
the  most  contemptible  sneaks  I  ever  saw !" 

"Roland  Ditson  is  in  Charlottesville." 

"But  he  hasn't  courage  enough  to  do  anything.  No 
one  need  ever  fear  him." 

"He  might  not  have  courage  enough  himself,  but 
there  are  desperate  men  in  these  parts  who  will  do  al- 
most anything  for  money.  We  do  not  see  many  of 
them  here  in  town,  but  we  hear  of  them.  You  know 
there  is  an  outlaw  by  the  name  of  Cunningham  who 
defies  officers  to  capture  him  and  who  has  carried  on  a 
perfect  reign  of  terror  not  more  than  a  hundred  mile? 
from  here." 

Bart  laughed,  trying  to  reassure  her. 

"Oh,  well,  it's  not  at  all  likely  Mr.  Cunningham  has 
had  anything  to  do  with  Roland  Ditson  or  is  in  this 


I3o  Bart  and  Elsie. 

vicinity.  Don't  get  alarmed,  Elsie.  Frank  can  take 
care  of  himself." 

"But  Roland  Ditson  has  been  so  confident  that  U.  V. 
would  defeat  Yale !  It  has  seemed  strange.  You  know 
he  comes  here  to  this  house,  and  I  have  been  com- 
pelled to  meet  him  and  treat  him  decently.  He  has 
made  some  talk,  and  it  has  been  his  boast  that  Virgil 
Paragon,  the  great  U.  V.  pitcher,  would  'make  Yale 
look  sick.'  I  understand  that  he  has  bet  lots  of  money 
against  Yale." 

"Well,  he'll  lose  it,"  said  Bart. 

"You  bet  your  boots  he  will,"  mentally  agreed  King 
Jimmy. 

"Not  if  Frank  does  not  pitch." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know !  We've  developed  two  good  men 
on  this  trip.  You  know  Merriwell  is  doing  only  just 
enough  pitching  to  get  into  perfect  form.  When  a 
game  looks  bad,  of  course,  he  goes  in  and  pulls  us  out. 
We've  found  a  good  man  in  Morgan." 

"Morgan?" 

"Yes." 

"Why,  I  thought " 

"That  he  was  Frank's  worst  enemy  and  would  not 
be  taken  onto  the  nine  ?  Well,  a  change  has  come  over 
Morgan  since  that  villainous  old  uncle  of  his  died.  I 
don't  like  the  fellow  at  all,  but  I  have  been  compelled 
to  confess  to  Merriwell  that  there  is  a  prospect  of  Mor- 
gan becoming  a  great  pitcher." 

"The  other " 


Bart  and  Elsie.  131 

"Is  Starbright.  He  can  pitch,  but  he  does  not  forge 
ahead  quite  as  fast  as  Morgan." 

"What  do  I  care  about  them  chaps?"  King  Jimmy 
whispered.  "They  ain't  in  it  with  Frank  Merriwell. 
He's  the  only  feller  that  can  beat  Virgil  Paragon,  and 
if  anything's  happened  to  him,  Yale  will  get  walloped 
out  of  her  boots  to-day." 

"But  I  tell  you  Virginia  will  win  to-day  if  Frank 
does  not  pitch.  I  believe  Ditson  is  satisfied  of  that,  and 
I  fear  he  has  done  something  to  get  Frank  out  of  the 
way." 

"I  hardly  think  that,  Elsie.  Don't  get  nervous  about 
Frank.  I'll  look  him  up  when  I  go  back  to  the  hotel. 
I  must  have  a  little  chat  with  you  first." 

"Won't  you  come  in?"  she  invited.  "Mrs.  Parker 
will  be  glad  to  see  you." 

That  was  no  inducement,  but  Hodge  was  ready 
enough  to  go  in.  However,  as  they  were  moving  away, 
a  violent  cough  attracted  their  attention,  and  they 
turned  to  perceive  King  Jimmy,  who  still  stood  with 
his  back  squarely  toward  them. 

"By  Jove!  I  nearly  forgot  him!"  exclaimed  Bart, 
diving  into  a  pocket.  "Here,  young  man,  is  the  quar- 
ter I  promised  you  for  showing  me  the  way." 

Jimmy  turned  and  caught  the  shining  piece  of  silver 
which  Bart  tossed  to  him. 

"Thank  yo',  suh,"  he  said,  as  he  bowed  low,  floppy 
hat  in  hand.  "I'll  be  at  the  ball-ground  this  afternoon 
with  all  the  fellers,  and  you  can  bet  Yale  will  have  some 
rooters  in  this  town." 


132  Bart  and  Elsie/ 

"That's  the  stuff!"  smiled  Bart.  "Give  us  some  en- 
couragement, James.  Good-by." 

"Farewell,"  said  the  king,  with  a  stately  wave  of  his 
hand.  "Good  day,  lady."  And  once  more  he  bowed, 
\vith  his  hand  touching  the  decoration  of  glory  and 
honor  over  his  heart. 

"What  a  polite  little  chap !"  said  Elsie,  as  she  entered 
the  house  with  Bart.  "And  so  dignified !" 

Had  they  looked  back  they  would  have  seen  that 
all  the  king's  dignity  had  vanished  and  that  the  king 
had  taken  to  his  heels  and  was  scudding  away  as  fast 
as  his  legs  could  carry  him. 

And  to  himself  the  king  was  communing  thus  as  he 
ran: 

"Great  jumping  Jingoes !  Til  bet  two  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars  that  something  has  happened  to  Frank 
Merriwell !  I'll  .bet  that  was  a  trick  to  get  him  out 
of  the  way!  I'm  goin'  to  find  out,  and  if  he's  in  any 
trouble  he  can  rely  on  me!  I'll  stand  by  him  to  the 
death!" 

Hurrah  for  King  Jimmy,  the  loyal ! 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

HODGE     AND     DITSON. 

Bart  and  Elsie  were  quite  alone  at  last.  He  had  seen 
Mrs.  Parker  and  chatted  with  her  a  few  moments,  after 
which,  making  some  excuse,  she  retired  from  the  airy 
sitting-room  and  left  them  there.  The  doors  were 
open,  but  the  house  was  quiet,  and  there  seemed  to  be 
no  one  near  to  overhear  what  might  pass  between 
them. 

Then  Bart  hesitated.  He  had  come  there  with  the 
determination  of  again  assaulting  the  fortress  and  ma- 
king a  desperate  attempt  to  carry  it  by  storm,  but  now 
his  heart  was  filled  with  forebodings  of  defeat. 

Elsie  was  looking  downward,  tapping  the  carpet 
lightly  with  one  small  foot.  He  gazed  at  her  with  his 
heart  seeming  to  pound  madly  in  his  throat. 

Surely  she  was  the  sweetest  and  most  beautiful  of  all 
girls!  He  could  not  doubt  it.  He  thought  of  other 
girls,  and  to  him  the  fairest  of  them  were  as  common 
clay  beside  her. 

"I  love  her!"  he  told  himself.  "I  must  win  her — I 
will!" 

How  could  he  begin  to  say  what  he  wished  to  ex- 
press ?  With  sudden  determination,  he  rose  and  walked 
over  to  the  window  near  her. 


134  Hodge  and  Ditson. 

"This  is  a  beautiful  place,  Elsie,"  he  said,  looking 
out  of  the  window. 

"Very  beautiful,"  she  answered,  rising.  "Virginia 
is  delightful  in  the  spring  time." 

"You  like  it  here?" 

"Oh,  yes." 

"You  have  not  been  lonesome?" 

"Ah,  but  I  have,"  she  confessed.  "You  know  I  was 
quite  a  stranger  here,  and  I  could  not  help  being  lone- 
some a  little.  Besides,  I  used  to  long  to  see  you  all  at 
New  Haven." 

He  drew  nearer  to  her. 

"Whom  do  you  mean  by  'you  all'  ?"  he  asked. 

"Why,  you  and  Frank,  and  all  the  friends  I  know 
there." 

"But  most  of  all?" 

"You  and  Frank." 

"If  Frank  were  to  ask  you  that  question,  you  would 
answer,  'You  and  Bart/  ' 

"Why,  yes,  I  suppose  I  would." 

He  showed  a  shadow  of  disappointment. 

"I  thought  you  did  not  intentionally  place  me  first," 
he  said ;  "but  I  hoped  you  did." 

She  looked  up  quickly,  and  that  glance  made  his 
heart  beat  still  more  swiftly. 

"Bart,"  she  said,  "I  would  not  intentionally  place 
cither  one  of  you  before  the  other." 

His  heart  seemed  to  drop  back  into  his  bosom  with 
a  thud. 


Hodge  and  Ditson.  135 

"I  had  hoped  you  did,"  he  repeated. 

He  knew  he  must  brace  up  at  once.  He  looked  on 
her,  and  the  fire  returned  to  his  heart. 

"Elsie,"  he  said  swiftly,  yet  gently,  taking  her 
hand,  "I  love  you !  You  know  that,  for  I  have  told  you 
so  before  now.  My  love  has  not  changed  in  the  least, 
unless  it  has  grown  stronger.  I  know  it  has  taken  a 
firmer  hold  on  me,  for  now  I  feel  that  I  cannot  live 
without  you !" 

The  hot  blood  had  rushed  to  his  face,  and  he  was 
trembling  again.  He  drew  her  toward  him,  and  she 
felt  his  panting  breath  on  her  cheek,  which  had  paled 
as  he  grew  flushed. 

"Don't  stop  me,  Elsie— please  listen!  You  must 
listen!  This  love  is  filling  my  heart  with  fire!  It  is 
burning  out  my  soul !  Elsie,  if  you  could  love  me  in 
return!  I  would  do  anything  for  you,  sweetheart!  I 
would  give  you  my  life's  devotion!  I  would  protect 
you  from  every  storm  and  hardship !  I  would  take  you 
in  my  arms  and  bear  you  tenderly  over  all  the  rough 
places  in  the  journey  of  life !  I  know  I  am  not  worthy 
of  you,  dear  girl — I  know  it,  but  still  I  cannot  give  up 
the  thought  that  I  may  win  you!  It  is  like  giving  up 
my  very  life!  I  will  try  to  make  myself  worthy!  I 
will  do  everything  to  bring  myself  nearer  your  level, 
which  I  know  I  can  never  reach!" 

"Now,  stop,  Bart!"  she  exclaimed,  with  sudden  firm- 
ness. "I  will  not  hear  you  talk  that  way  about  your- 
self. Don't  try  to  make  me  out  such  a  paragon  of  per- 


136  Hodge  and  Ditson. 

fection,  for  I  know  I  have  my  faults,  just  like  any 
other  girl,  and  I " 

He  stopped  her. 

"You  are  not  like  other  girls  in  any  way,"  he  de- 
clared, with  all  the  intense  infatuation  of  youth.  "You 
are  wholly  and  entirely  different.  You  are  as  far  above 
them  as " 

"Don't,  Bart!"  she  protested,  her  face  crimson. 
"Truly  you  are  mistaken !" 

She  was  laughing  and  confused,  but  she  looked  pret- 
tier than  ever  before.  He  tried  to  draw  her  into  his 
arms,  but  she  would  not  permit  it. 

"I  don't  care!"  he  declared,  with  that  same  intense 
earnestness.  "To  me  you  are  different,  and  that  is 
enough!  To  me  you  are  everything!  Elsie,  answer 
me  one  question,  answer  me  honestly:  Are  you  still 
in  love  with  Frank?" 

She  hesitated  with  bowed  head,  her  laughter  stopped 
now,  the  blushes  fading  from  her  face. 

His  heart  seemed  to  stand  quite  still  while  he  waited 
for  her  to  answer,  for  he  felt  that  his  future  happiness 
depended  on  the  words  her  lips  would  speak. 

It  was  plain  that  she  was  trying  to  analyze  her  own 
feelings ;  she  was  trying  to  read  the  secret  depths  of  her 
heart.  He  could  see  that,  and  a  fearful  dread  of  the 
result  rose  up  and  grasped  him  with  a  grip  of  iron.  He 
was  not  a  coward  in  any  sense,  yet,  aware  as  he  was  of 
the  new  understanding  between  Frank  and  Inza,  he  felt 
that  he  dared  permit  Elsie  to  speak  without  knowing 
what  had  taken  place. 


Hodge  and  Ditson.  137 

For  what  if  Elsie  were  to  confess  that  she  still  cared 
for  Frank  as  of  old  ?  Then  he  could  not  tell  her.  And 
he  had  sought  permission  from  Frank  to  tell  Elsie  what 
had  occurred. 

Having  made  such  a  profession,  would  not  Elsie  be 
too  proud  to  ever  alter  her  mind,  and  might  it  not 
raise  up  still  greater  barriers  between  them? 

"Wait!"  he  panted,  as  he  fancied  she  was  on  the 
point  of  speaking.  "I  want  to  give  you  more  time, 
dear  girl.  I  want  you  to  know  just  what  your  answer 
means  to  me.  Frank  is  my  friend,  and  he  is  the  finest 
fellow  in  the  world,  so  I  am  not " 

"That's  your  opinion,  Mr.  Hodge.  Beg  pardon  for 
intruding.  I  am  looking  for  Ned,  and,  happening  to 
hear  voices  here,  I  strayed  in." 

The  speaker  was  Roland  Ditson,  calm,  cool,  swag* 
gering. 

Hodge,  furious  at  the  intrusion,  gave  the  fellow  a 
black  look,  while  Elsie  drew  back  a  little. 

"Don't  let  me  interrupt  your  enjoyment,"  said  Dit- 
son, with  a  laughing  sneer.  "I'm  going  right  out ;  but 
before  I  do,  I  want  to  say  that  the  opinion  of  Mr. 
Hodge  in  regard  to  Merriwell  is  not  shared  by  every- 
body." 

Bart  took  two  steps  toward  Roland,  hoarsely  de- 
manding : 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Just  what  I  said,"  declared  Ditson,  with  cool  de- 
fiance. "I  do  not  regard  Merriwell  as  the  finest  fel- 


138  Hodge  and  Ditson. 

low  in  the  world,  but  far  from  it.  In  fact,  I  think 
he  is " 

"Hold  on !"  Bart's  hand  was  outflung.  "Be  careful 
what  you  say !" 

"Whew!"  whistled  Roland.  "This  is  a  free  coun- 
try, and  my  tongue  is  my  own.  You  can't  muzzle,  me 
here,  Hodge,  and  I  shall  express  my  opinion  of  Merri- 
well  if  I  wish." 

"Don't  do  it !    There  is  a  lady  present." 

"Well,  it  is  true  that  I  couldn't  properly  say  just 
what  I  think  of  Merriwell  in  the  presence  of  a  lady." 

Bart  was  beginning  to  tremble  again,  but  this  time 
it  was  for  an  emotion  entirely  different  from  the  one 
that  had  possessed  him  a  short  time  before.  He  longed 
to  walk  to  Roland  and  knock  him  down  without  an- 
other word. 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  go  outside  with  you  and  hear 
you  express  yourself,"  said  Bart,  in  a  manner  that  Ro- 
land could  not  misunderstand. 

Now  Ditson  had  no  fancy  for  getting  into  a  fight 
with  Hodge,  who  had  a  reputation  as  a  chap  who  had 
as  soon  fight  as  eat. 

"Excuse  me,"  he  said  airily.  "I  haven't  time,  you 
know.  I'm  looking  for  Ned  Parker.  I  want  to  tell 
him  that  Virginia  is  dead  sure  to  win  the  ball-game 
to-day.  Yale  will  not  be  in  the  game  at  all." 

"Your  wisdom  does  you  credit!"  returned  Bart 
scornfully. 

"That's  all  right,"  returned  Roland.  "You'll  see 
pretty  soon  that  I  know  what  I  know.  Yale  can't 


Hodge  and  Ditson.  139 

win  to-day.  The  die  is  cast,  and  Virginia  drags  her 
feathers  in  the  dust." 

Hodge  became  convinced  that  he  understood  the  fel- 
low's meaning.  He  remembered  Elsie's  words  of  a 
short  time  before.  Why  was  Ditson  so  confident?  For 
once  in  his  life,  Bart  resolved  to  be  diplomatic.  He 
would  seek  to  draw  the  fellow  out. 

"With  Merriwell  in  the  box,  there  is  a  possibility 
that  Virginia  will  not  score,"  he  said. 

"With  Merriwell  in  the  box !"  laughed  Ditson.  "Ha ! 
ha!  ha!  Why,  is  that  so?  Well,  wait  and  see  what 
Mr.  Merriwell  does  to-day.  It  is  my  private  opinion 
that  he  will  not  do  any  pitching  worth  mentioning.  I 
tell  you  Virginia  will  bury  you." 

There  was  that  in  the  fellow's  manner  that  added  to 
Bart's  conviction  that  something  was  wrong.  For  the 
first  time  Hodge  began  to  be  alarmed. 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  he  demanded.  "Merriwell  is 
in  first-class  trim.  He  is  sure  to  do  good  work  to-day." 

"Is  he  ?    Ha !  ha !  ha !    Wait  and  see !" 

"What  is  up?"  hissed  Hodge,  unable  to  control  him- 
self longer.  "Have  you  been  at  your  old  dirty  tricks, 
Ditson?  If  you  have — if  the  least  harm  has  befallen 
Frank  Merriwell " 

"Don't  say  it,"  warned  Roland,  with  a  careless  ges- 
ture of  his  cane.  "I  don't  mind  your  bluffing  talk, 
Hodge.  I  know  nothing  about  anything  that  has  hap- 
pened to  your  pet,  Merriwell.  I  only  know  that  he  is 


140  Hodge  and  Ditson. 

"Come  outside  and  say  it — come  outside!"  begged 
Bart.  "Don't  force  me  to  hit  you  here !" 

"Why,  you  big  blower !  you  wouldn't  dare  to  strike 
me!" 

"Wouldn't  I?" 

With  that  exclamation,  Bart  went  forward.  Roland 
lifted  his  cane  to  strike.  Like  a  panther  Hodge  leaped, 
clutched  the  cane,  tore  it  from  the  rascal's  grasp,  and 
broke  it  over  his  knee. 

"That's  all !"  breathed  the  dark-eyed  lad,  as  he  flung 
the  broken  cane  at  Roland's  feet.  "I  won't  hit  you, 
though  you  deserve  it.  But  if  I  find  that  you  have 
been  at  any  dirty  work,  look  out  for  me  I  I'll  give  you 
the  worst  thrashing  you  ever  had !" 

"The  threat  of  a  bully,"  declared  Roland.  "I  don't 
mind  anything  you  may  say.  You  had  better  keep 
away  from  me.  But  I  want  you  to  pay  me  for  mjj 
cane." 

"You  do?  Well,  it's  likely  you  will  take  it  out  in 
wanting." 

"We'll  see  about  that!" 

With  these  words  Roland  turned  and  left  the  room. 

Elsie  had  not  interfered,  but  now  she  came  forward 
swiftly,  and  suddenly  she  put  her  arms  about  Bart's 
neck,  crying : 

"I  know  now  that  he  has  done  something  to  Frank! 
Bart,  you  must  find  out  about  it — you  must !  If  any- 
thing has  happened  to  Frank " 

She  stopped,  but  already  she  had  said  enough — too 


Hodge  and  Ditson.  141 

much,  Bart  thought.  There  was  a  feeling  of  intense 
pain  in  his  heart,  and  he  mentally  cried : 

"She  loves  him — she  loves  him  still!" 

But  aloud  he  said : 

"Elsie,  I  will  do  everything  I  can.  You  know  that. 
He  is  my  friend — my  dearest  friend,  and  I'll  do  any- 
thing for  him." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

JIMMY   ON   THE   TRAIL. 

King  Jimmy  the  First  had  thrown  aside  the  robes 
of  royalty  for  the  time.  He  was  on  the  trail  I  He  was 
also  in  disguise !  From  his  bosom  he  had  removed  the 
ensign  of  his  exalted  station,  he  had  turned  up  his  coat- 
collar,  and  his  old  hat  was  pulled  far  down  over  his 
eyes,  while  upon  his  upper  lip  was  a  smooch  of  charcoal 
that  was  intended  to  represent  a  mustache.  He  was 
now  Old  Ferret,  the  Sleepless  Detective. 

Already  his  investigations  had  revealed  that  the 
name  of  the  man  with  whom  Frank  Merriwell  had  de- 
parted from  the  railway-station  was  Cunningham. 
Cunningham — ha !  why,  that  was  the  name  of  the  des- 
perate Blue  Ridge  outlaw!  S'death!  Here  was  a  clue? 
It  was  enough  for  Old  Ferret.  The  Sleepless  De- 
tective would  track  the  outlaw  to  his  lair.  The  victim 
of  the  outlaw's  perfidious  machinations  should  be  res- 
cued at  all  hazards. 

So  Old  Ferret  set  about  his  task  of  tracking  the 
outlaw  down.  He  found  that  the  man's  associates  in 
town  were  a  most  disreputable  set,  indeed ;  but  he  went 
among  them  boldly  and  told  them  that  he  had  been 
given  an  important  letter  to  deliver  to  Mr.  Cunning- 
ham. It  was  not  Jimmy  Lee,  of  Charlottesville,  who 


Jimmy  On  the  Trail.  143 

told  this  falsehood,  mind  you;  it  was  Old  Ferret,  the 
Sleepless  Detective,  and  he  did  it  for  a  good  cause. 

One  man  offered  to  take  the  letter  to  Cunningham, 
but  Old  Ferret  declined  to  transfer  such  an  important 
message  into  the  care  of  any  other  person.  He  must 
deliver  it  himself  as  a  sacred  duty.  Then  somebody 
told  the  detective  that  Cunningham  hung  out  at  Ben 
Shannon's  a  great  deal.  Where  was  Ben  Shannon's? 
The  information  was  obtained,  and  the  Sleepless  De- 
tective took  the  trail  afoot  and  alone. 

On  the  way  the  great  sleuth  made  inquiries,  and  he 
learned  that  a  man  driving  such  a  team  as  Cunning- 
ham's and  accompanied  by  a  smooth-faced  youth  had 
passed  along  that  road.  Farther  on  he  also  learned 
that  the  team  had  run  away  on  that  road,  and  the 
beardless  youth  had  leaped  astride  one  of  the  horses 
and  pulled  the  animals  down  to  a  walk. 

Ah,  but  this  was  information,  indeed!  It  was  the 
heart  of  Jimmy  Lee,  of  Charlottesville,  that  thrilled 
with  delighted  admiration  when  he  heard  of  this  dar- 
ing feat  of  his  idol ;  but  it  was  Old  Ferret,  the  detect- 
ive, who  muttered,  "He  cannot  escape  me,  for  I'll  not 
rest  night  or  day  till  he  is  in  the  toils!"  And  he  was 
referring  to  Cunningham,  not  Frank  Merriwell,  when 
he  muttered  those  words. 

Sometimes  the  trailer  paused  to  examine  with  a  crit- 
ical eye  the  tracks  on  the  dusty  road,  and  the  look  of 
wisdom  on  his  charcoal-mustached  face  would  have 
done  you  good  to  see.  When  he  met  a  wayfarer,  he 
turned  his  collar  still  higher,  pulled  his  hat  still  lower, 


144  Jimmy  On  the  Trail. 

and  so,  safe  in  his  disguise,  passed  on.  Perchance  the 
wayfarer  smiled  at  him;  but  what  of  that  so  long  as 
he  was  not  recognized  as  the  great  detective,  Old  Fer- 
ret! 

And  so,  at  last,  he  came  to  the  strip  of  timber  in 
which  he  had  learned  was  the  home  of  Ben  Shannon, 
standing  at  a  considerable  distance  from  the  public 
road.  And  in  due  time  he  arrived  at  what  he  knew 
without  doubt  was  the  private  road  that  led  to  Shan- 
non's, the  lair  of  the  outlaw. 

Even  a  great  detective  must  be  cautious,  and  so  Old 
Ferret  slipped  into  the  woods  at  a  distance  from  the 
private  road,  the  course  of  which  he  pursued  without 
venturing  into  it. 

At  times  he  stopped  and  crouched  in  the  shelter  of 
some  shrubbery  bushes  or  behind  the  bole  of  a  tree, 
while  he  peered  through  the  forest  and  listened.  Be- 
ing satisfied  with  his  investigations,  he  went  on  till  he 
saw  through  the  trees  the  ramshackle  resort  of  the 
outlaw. 

What  was  to  be  done  now?  Already  midday  was 
long  past.  The  sun  was  in  the  western  sky.  Old  Fer- 
ret had  not  eaten  since  early  morning,  but  little  cared 
he  for  that.  His  iron  frame  gave  no  heed  to  fatigue  or 
hunger  while  he  was  on  the  trail. 

Should  he  wait  in  hiding  until  night  and  see  what 
he  could  do  then?  Night!  Why,  that  would  be  too 
late,  for  then  the  base  design  of  the  outlaw  would  be 
accomplished.  Beyond  a  doubt  that  design  was  to  keep 
Frank  Merriwell  from  the  ball-field  that  afternoon. 


Jimmy  On  the  Trail.  145 

There  could  be  no  delay.  Onward,  Old  Ferret,  to  the 
rescue ! 

The  house  looked  silent  and  deserted.  There  were 
not  even  dogs  around  it,  for  which  the  great  detective 
was  thankful  enough,  for  dogs  always  raise  a  rumpus 
at  the  wrong  time. 

However,  while  Old  Ferret  was  meditating  on  the 
next  move,  a  colored  man  came  out  of  the  house,  leav- 
ing the  front  door  open  as  he  did  so.  He  was  singing 
thickly  to  himself,  and  his  steps  were  not  quite  steady 
as  he  walked  toward  some  distant  sheds.  Before  he 
reached  the  sheds  he  paused,  took  a  bottle  from  his 
pocket,  and  drank  from  it. 

"Ha!"  hissed  the  watchful  sleuth.  "Methmks  I 
smell  something!" 

It  would  not  have  been  the  contents  of  the  bottle, 
for  he  was  much  too  far  away. 

However,  as  intoxicated  colored  men  are  seldom 
seen  coming  from  the  front  door  of  the  homes  of  white 
people  in  Virginia,  it  is  possible  that  Old  Ferret  did 
smell  something,  metaphorically  speaking.  And  that 
something  gave  him  great  encouragement  to  move 
without  delay. 

Nevertheless,  he  waited  till  the  colored  man  had  dis- 
appeared in  the  shed.  Then  he  worked  round  till  he 
was  very  near  that  shed.  After  a  time  he  slipped  up 
to  the  door  and  peered  in. 

The  colored  man  was  fast  asleep  on  some  straw  in  a 
corner,  his  bottle  by  his  side.  Standing  in  the  shed 
were  two  horses.  They  were  the  very  ones  Cunning- 


146  Jimmy  On  the  Trail. 

ham  had  driven  when,  with  Frank  Merriwell  at  his 
side,  he  left  the  railway-station  that  day. 

Old  Ferret  was  well  satisfied.  Thus  far  he  had  not 
made  one  false  step.  Now  he  surveyed  the  house. 

Still,  as  before,  there  were  no  signs  of  life  about  it. 
It  was  strangely  silent  and  deserted. 

The  daring  detective  slipped  up  close  under  the  shel- 
ter of  its  walls,  and,  with  one  ear  pressed  against  the 
moss-grown  shingles,  he  listened  as  a  physician  listens 
to  the  beating  of  a  patient's  heart. 

No  sound  from  within. 

Still  thinking  how  that  colored  man  who  was  sleep- 
ing in  the  shed  had  issued  from  the  front  door,  which 
he  had  left  ajar,  Old  Ferret  was  led  to  advance  round 
the  corner  and  approach  the  sagging  steps. 

He  knew  he  was  taking  his  life  in  his  hand  when  he 
ventured  into  the  retreat  of  a  desperado  like  Cunning- 
ham, the  outlaw,  but  what  recked  he  of  that !  Had  not 
his  life  been  in  peril  thousands  of  times  as  he  tracked 
down  the  minions  of  crime ! 

And  at  the  very  foot  of  those  sagging  steps,  lying  on 
the  ground,  Old  Ferret  found  something  to  cause  his 
eyes  to  glitter.  He  quickly  stooped  and  picked  it  up. 

It  was  a  knot  of  dark-blue  ribbon,  the  same  modest 
knot  that  had  been  worn  by  Jimmy  Lee  when  the  train 
bearing  the  Yale  team  drew  in  at  the  railway-station 
that  day. 

There  was  now  no  longer  the  least  doubt  but  that  the 
great  detective  was  on  the  right  track.  However,  the 


Jimmy  On  the  Trail.  147 

most  desperate  and  daring  part  of  his  work  lay  before 
him. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  his  heart  was  performing 
queer  capers  in  his  bosom  as  he  mounted  those  steps 
and  paused  to  peep  into  the  hall  that  the  partly  open 
door  revealed. 

It  was  a  forbidding-looking  hall,  too.  No  wonder  he 
felt  like  drawing  back.  Unpapered,  unpainted,  and 
dirty  it  seemed  on  close  examination. 

But  Old  Ferret  bethought  himself  of  his  disguise  and 
turned  not  back.  If  he  were  seen,  he  would  have  re- 
course to  his  ready  wit  to  get  himself  out  of  the  scrape. 
Any  detective  could  do  that,  and  when  did  the  ready 
wit  of  the  real  detective  ever  fail  him  in  time  of  emer- 
gency ! 

Into  the  hall  he  slipped,  with  the  velvet  tread  of  the 
panther.  Never  mind  if  one  of  his  shoes  did  squeak  a 
little,  it  was  just  the  same,  "the  velvet  tread  of  the 
panther."  Great  detectives  always  walked  that  way 
in  a  place  like  this. 

Still  the  silence  of  the  place  was  unbroken.  He  won- 
dered greatly  at  it,  and  he  longed  to  call  to  Frank  Mer- 
riwell.  This  inclination  to  shout,  however,  he  knew 
was  very  unprofessional,  and  he  sternly  repressed  it. 

From  room  to  room  he  went  with  the  same  cautious 
tread,  peering  into  first  one  and  then  another.  Appar- 
ently all  were  empty  save  of  the  battered  old  furniture. 
There  seemed  to  be  no  woman  about  the  place.  Plainly 
Ben  Shannon  was  not  partial  toward  women. 

The  lower  part  of  the  house  was  explored.    There 


148  Jimmy  On  the  Trail. 

was  no  cellar.  Even  Old  Ferret,  for  all  of  his  wonder- 
ful nerve,  might  have  hesitated  in  the  teeth  of  a  dark 
cellar  that  abounded  with  rats. 

There  being  no  cellar,  it  was  necessary  for  him  to 
proceed  to  the  upper  story  of  the  house.  The  stairs 
complained  and  tried  to  shout  a  warning,  and  it  must 
be  that  their  vociferousness  caused  him  to  pause  sev- 
eral times  in  the  ascent. 

But  at  last  the  top  was  reached,  and  then,  as  he 
halted  there  to  survey  his  surroundings,  he  distinctly 
heard  a  sound  that  made  him  crouch  with  every  nerve 
strained  and  every  separate  hair  threatening  to  kick 
his  hat  off. 

A  strange  and  awesome  sound  it  was,  coming  from 
whence  he  could  not  tell.  A  shuddering,  nerve-trying 
sound,  like  the  growl  of  some  fierce  wild  beast  pre- 
paring to  leap  upon  its  prey. 

What  could  it  be?  Was  it  possible  the  outlaw  was 
guarded  by  tame  lions?  Even  that  thought  was  not 
enough  to  break  the  iron  nerve  of  Old  Ferret,  although 
it  must  be  confessed  that  it  gave  his  nerve  a  mighty 
wrench. 

Then  he  heard  it  again. 

It  was  a  snore ! 

The  tenseness  went  out  of  the  great  detective's  body, 
his  hair  permitted  his  old  hat  to  settle  back  upon  his 
head,  and  he  straightened  up  with  a  deep  sigh  of  re- 
lief. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "this  seems  to  be  about  the  sleepiest 


Jimmy  On  the  Trail.  149 

place  I  ever  struck.  Everybody  is  taking  a  snooze. 
That's  first-class!  I  like  it." 

But  even  then,  knowing  some  one  was  near,  it  was 
some  time  before  he  could  summon  his  strength  to  go 
on.  He  saw  an  open  door,  and,  still  with  his  profes- 
sional panther-tread,  he  slipped  up  to  it. 

The  room  into  which  Old  Ferret  peered  was  the 
same  one  in  which  Frank  Merriwell  had  caught  a 
glimpse  of  two  men  who  were  sitting  at  a  table  and 
playing  cards.  The  table  was  there,  the  men  were 
there;  but  they  were  not  playing  cards.  On  the  table 
were  empty  bottles  that  had  once  contained  moon- 
shine whisky,  but  which  were  empty  now.  Glasses 
were  also  there.  One  man  lay  sprawled  forward  on 
the  table,  though  still  seated  on  a  chair.  He  was  sound 
asleep  and  snoring.  Another  man  had  slipped  from  his 
chair  and  lay  beneath  the  table  in  a  most  uncomfortable 
position,  which  he  did  not  seem  to  mind  in  the  least. 

In  a  corner  lay  yet  a  third  man,  and  this  was  the 
mighty  outlaw  himself,  although — ye  gods! — what  a 
face  he  had!  He  was  recognizable  more  by  his  red 
hair  and  beard  than  anything  else.  His  face  was  bat- 
tered and  disfigured  by  blood,  which  had  run  down 
upon  his  clothes,  and,  taken  all  together,  he  was  a 
most  pitiful-looking  object. 

Old  Ferret  stared  when  he  saw  this  fellow.  What 
did  it  mean?  Something  had  happened  to  Cunning- 
ham, and  it  had  happened  very  much,  too ! 

"I  know  !"•  thought  the  detective,  in  triumph.  "Jim~ 
iny  goshfry!  Didn't  Frank  Merriwell  give  it  to  him 


150  Jimmy  On  the  Trail. 

good!  Oh,  say!  Um-um!  Didn't  he  just  paralyze 
Mr.  Outlaw!  I'd  give  fourteen  thousand  dollars  just 
to  have  seen  that  scrap !" 

Then  came  a  horrible  and  blood-chilling  thought. 
What  had  happened  to  Frank  Merriwell  ? 

Old  Ferret  shivered  in  his  boots,  only  they  were  not 
exactly  boots,  and  they  had  holes  enough  in  them  to 
cause  anybody  to  shiver. 

Where  was  Frank  Merriwell?  Had  these  ruffians 
killed  him?  This  was  the  fear  that  caused  even  the 
freckles  of  the  great  detective  to  turn  pale. 

"If  he  is  dead,  I  will  avenge  him !"  vowed  Old  Fer- 
ret, through  his  clenched  teeth. 

Then  he  resumed  his  search,  though  it  was  with  his 
heart  filled  with  dread  at  what  he  expected  to  discover. 

Almost  the  first  room  he  peered  into  contained  the 
object  of  his  search. 

Not  dead !    Not  dying  f 

Bound  hands  and  feet  and  tied  to  the  floor,  spikes 
having  been  driven  down  to  hold  the  ropes.  Bound 
and  gagged! 

Old  Ferret  hopped  into  that  room  and  softly  closed 
the  door  behind  him.  He  felt  like  whooping  for  joy, 
but  no  great  detective  ever  whooped,  so  he  did  not 
whoop. 

But  he  said,  "Ha !  I  have  accomplished  me  purpose !" 
and  his  unutterable  satisfaction  was  shown  on  his  face. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

FACING  CERTAIN  DEFEAT. 

Six  innings  of  the  game  between  Yale  and  Virginia 
had  been  played,  and  Virginia  was  three  scores  in  the 
lead,  the  tally  standing  four  to  one. 

The  game  had  been  begun  without  Merriwell,  for  alt 
efforts  on  the  part  of  Hodge  and  others  of  the  nine  to 
find  Frank  had  failed. 

Roland  Ditson  was  triumphant.  His  heart  was  filled 
with  great  joy,  for  it  was  his  disposition  to  regard  this 
as  a  great  victory  for  him.  Besides  that,  was  he  not 
going  to  make  a  lot  of  money  through  the  defeat  of 
Yale? 

The  distress  of  the  Yale  team  without  its  captaiu 
and  leader  was  apparent,  though  it  made  a  fierce  fight 
under  command  of  Bart  Hodge,  who  had  been  given 
charge  by  the  manager. 

But  Hodge  was  so  worried  that  he  could  not  do  his 
best,  and  to  him  had  been  due  the  giving  of  Virginia 
her  first  score  on  a  passed  ball. 

That  was  in  the  fourth  inning,  Yale  having  made 
her  only  score  in  the  first.  Then  Morgan  seemed  to 
get  rattled,  and  two  more  scores  came  in  on  clean  hits. 

Without  the  least  hesitation  Hodge  set  Starbright 
to  "warming  up,"  intending  to  put  him  into  the  box 
and  take  Morgan  out. 


152  Facing  Certain  Defeat. 

The  sight  of  Starbright  preparing  to  pitch  did  not 
rattle  Dade  Morgan.  Instead  of  that,  it  seemed  to 
cause  him  to  brace  up  in  a  most  wonderful  manner. 
He  clenched  his  teeth,  pressed  his  lips  together,  and 
struck  out  the  next  man.  The  man  who  followed  put 
up  a  little  fly  that  Morgan  captured,  and  the  side  was 
retired. 

But  where  was  Merriwell?  That  was  the  cry  that 
filled  the  heart  of  every  man  on  the  Yale  bench.  With 
Merriwell  absent  they  felt  that  Virginia  was  bound 
to  carry  off  the  game.  And  Virginia  had  a  team  that 
was  in  no  way  comparable  with  Yale's.  Paragon  was 
the  only  great  man  U.  V.  had,  and  he  really  was  a  wiz- 
ard, else  how  had  he  kept  the  slugging  Yale  men  down 
to  three  hits  and  one  score  in  six  innings?  His  sup- 
port had  been  far  from  gilt-edged. 

In  the  sixth  Virginia  had  obtained  another  score, 
and  Morgan  had  pulled  himself  together  again  after 
filling  the  bases  with  one  out,  and  had  permitted  no 
more  tallying. 

There  was  one  knot  of  youngsters  who  gathered  by 
themselves  and  looked  very  miserable.  Early  that  day 
they  had  been  the  followers  of  King  Watson,  but  with 
the  accession  of  King  Jimmy  they  transferred  their  al- 
legiance to  him,  and  King  Jimmy  was  faithful  to  the 
great  Frank  Merriwell.  It  made  no  difference  that  he 
was  strangely  missing,  it  made  no  difference  that  Wat- 
son taunted  them  and  sneered  at  them,  they  remained 
faithful  to  him  who  had  won  the  glory  of  sitting  upon 
the  shoulder  of  Frank  Merriwell. 


Facing  Certain  Defeat.  153 

Therefore  they  were  very  miserable,  and  they  told 
themselves  that  "things  would  be  different  if  Frank 
Merriwell  was  here."  And  they  wondered  and  specu- 
lated at  the  absence  of  both  Frank  and  King  Jimmy 
from  the  ball-field. 

Hodge  had  been  compelled  to  give  up  the  search 
for  Frank  and  go  into  the  game.  He  was  satisfied  that 
Ditson's  trick  was  simply  to  keep  Merry  out  of  the  way 
till  U.  V.  could  win,  and  he  firmly  believed  that  the 
fellow  would  take  good  care  that  no  real  harm  befell 
the  captain  of  the  Yale  team. 

Then  Bart  resolved  to  defeat  Ditson's  purpose  by 
encouraging  the  men  to  win,  even  though  Frank  was 
not  there  to  pitch.  But  Virgil  Paragon,  the  Virginia 
pitcher,  proved  to  be  the  great  stumbling-block.  They 
could  not  seem  to  get  safe  hits  off  him  when  hits  were 
needed. 

Ditson,  who  had  obtained  odds  when  he  bet  on  Vir- 
ginia earlier  in  the  day,  was  now  offering  odds,  and 
with  no  takers. 

Had  Frank  Merriwell  been  there,  he  would  have 
found  plenty  who  were  ready  to  cover  his  money ;  but 
without  Frank  Merriwell  the  Yale  men  seemed  to  lack 
heart  and  confidence. 

"Just  hear  that  blower!"  growled  one  of  the  dis- 
gusted subjects  of  King  Jimmy.  "If  Frank  Merriwell 
was  here,  I'd  shut  him  up!  But  I  reckon  it  ain't  any 
use  as  long  as  he  ain't  here." 

Then  they  resigned  themselves  to  fate. 

In  the  sixth  Morgan  had  again  seemed  on  the  point 


154  Facing  Certain  Defeat. 

of  going  to  pieces,  and  Hodge  feared  the  third  time 
this  should  happen;  therefore  he  resolved  to  put  in 
Starbright. 

So  Dick  was  again  set  to  "warming  up,"  and  Mor- 
gan knew  he  was  to  be  taken  out.  If  he  felt  angry 
over  this,  he  held  his  temper.  He  had  learned  that 
pitchers  might  be  changed  any  time  during  the  game 
on  a  trip  like  this,  and  no  pitcher  was  liable  to  win 
the  satisfaction  of  claiming  truthfully  that  he  had  car- 
ried off  a  game  without  assistance. 

In  the  first  of  the  seventh  the  Yale  men  were  at  the 
bat,  but  Paragon  toyed  with  them  as 'before,  not  per- 
mitting a  man  to  reach  second. 

Deep  was  the  gloom  of  the  men  from  the  North 
when  they  moved  out  onto  the  field  beneath  that  smi- 
ling blue  Virginian  sky. 

The  crowd  was  delighted,  as  it  had  a  right  to  be,  for 
it  was  an  honor  to  defeat  Yale. 

Oh,  where  was  Merriwell ! 

Morgan  sat  on  the  bench  and  saw  Starbright  go  into 
the  box. 

"Ha!  ha!"  laughed  Ditson.  "Our  boys  will  make 
short  work  of  that  big  duffer!  Why,  he  can't  pitch!" 

Now  Starbright  had  been  doing  very  good  work 
during  the  trip,  but  on  this  occasion  he  felt  the  ab- 
sence of  Merriwell  as  much  as  any  one,  not  even 
Hodge  being  excepted. 

Somehow  it  seemed  to  Dick  that  Merriwell  had  al- 
ways given  him  strength  and  courage  in  whatever  he 
undertook  since  entering  college.  A  look  from  Frank's 


Facing  Certain  Defeat.  is 5 

eye  was  enough  to  brace  him  up  and  give  him  un- 
bounded confidence. 

He  could  not  receive  that  look  now,  and  even 
Hodge's  words  of  instruction  spoken  to  him  just  before 
he  entered  the  box  were  not  enough  to  steady  his 
nerves  and  put  him  on  his  mettle. 

Elsie  Bellwood,  her  face  pale,  was  there  amid  the 
spectators.  Inwardly  she  was  almost  frantic,  but  what 
could  she  do?  Bart  had  tried  to  soothe  her  by  telling 
her  that  Merriwell  would  not  be  harmed,  but  her  fears 
could  not  be  so  easily  allayed. 

Starbright  was  in  his  position.  The  batter  came  up 
to  strike.  Hodge  was  under  the  bat,  with  his  mask 
adjusted. 

Then  Dick  sent  in  the  first  ball,  and  the  batter  lined 
it  out  with  a  tremendous  crack. 

The  crowd  rose  as  the  man  who  had  hit  the  ball 
sped  down  to  first.  Gamp,  Yale's  center-fielder,  was 
doing  his  best  to  get  near  the  place  where  the  ball  must 
fall,  but  it  went  far  over  his  head  and  he  chased  it 
into  the  distance,  while  the  runner  circled  the  bases 
and  came  home,  with  the  crowd  roaring. 

Dick  Starbright  was  white  as  chalk.  With  difficulty 
Bart  choked  back  a  groan. 

"It's  all  over!"  he  told  himself.  "Where  is  Merri- 
well ?  If  he  would  come  now  ?" 

Roland  Ditson  shouted  with  laughter  and  waved  his 
hat  in  the  air. 

"I  told  you  he  could  not  pitch!"  he  cried.  "Oh, 
Virginia  will  pound  him  all  over  the  lot !" 


156  Facing  Certain  Deieat. 

"And  I'll  pound  you  a  few  after  the  game!"  mut- 
tered Hodge,  with  deep  fury  in  his  heart. 

The  next  batter  advanced  to  the  plate.  The  ball  had 
been  returned  to  Starbright,  but  the  big  fellow  seemed 
dismayed.  He  stood  there,  looking  around. 

"Pitch  the  ball !"  cried  somebody  in  the  crowd. 

Starbright  did  not  stir. 

"Pitch  the  ball !"  again  was  the  cry. 

The  batsman  was  waiting. 

"One  ball!"  declared  the  umpire,  when  more  than 
twenty  seconds  had  elapsed  without  Dick  making  an 
offer  to  deliver. 

Then  the  giant  freshman  shook  himself  together, 
hearing,  however,  the  guying  of  the  crowd  and  feeling 
it  keenly. 

He  began  to  pitch,  and  the  batter  soon  got  a  clean 
hit  off  him,  making  first. 

The  next  batter  followed  with  a  hit.  Then  an  error 
filled  the  bases. 

"Virginia  does  it  right  here!"  said  Ditson.  "A  good 
hit  now  means  two  or  three  more  scores,  which  will 
clinch  the  game." 

What  was  that  commotion  amid  the  crowd?  Men 
were  standing  and  gazing  down  the  road.  A  murmur 
arose;  it  swelled  louder  and  louder. 

"What  is  it?    Who  is  it?"  the  crowd  cried. 

Two  horses  were  coming  at  a  mad  gallop  along  the 
road,  their  hoofs  ringing  clear,  a  cloud  of  dust  rising 
behind  them. 


Facing  Certain  Defeat.  157 

The  riders  were  urging  their  horses  to  the  highest 
rate  of  speed,  racing  along  side  by  side. 

One  was  a  man,  a  handsome,  determined,  beardless 
youth,  who,  though  the  horse  he  bestrode  was  without 
a  saddle,  rode  like  a  centaur. 

The  other  was  a  boy,  and  he  clung  like  a  monkey 
to  the  back  of  his  horse,  his  eyes  gleaming  with  excite- 
ment, every  freckle  on  his  face  seeming  to  sparkle  with 
excitement.  On  his  upper  lip  was  a  strange  black 
smooch. 

"Here  he  comes !" 

Then  Dick  Starbright  uttered  a  little  sigh  of  relief. 
But  the  batter  sprang  to  his  place,  crying: 

"Make  him  deliver  the  ball,  Mr.  Umpire,  according 
to  the  rules.  Don't  let  him  delay  the  game !" 

A  hit  now  meant  the  winning  of  the  game. 

Dick  saw — Dick  knew.  Down  to  the  ground  he 
dropped,  writhing  in  apparent  pain,  seemingly  seized 
with  cramps,  while  nearer  and  nearer  came  the  hoof- 
beats  of  the  galloping  horses. 

"Call  a  ball  on  him,  Mr.  Umpire!"  cried  the  batter. 

"You  can't  make  a  sick  man  pitch,"  said  the  umpire, 
with  a  strange  grin.  "Mr.  Hodge,  where  is  your  next 
pitcher?" 

Into  the  enclosure  by  the  open  gate  dashed  the  horses 
and  their  riders. 

"He  is  here !"  rang  out  the  clear  voice  of  Hodge,  as 
Frank  Merriwell  flung  himself  from  the  back  of  one 
of  those  horses  and  advanced. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 
"THE  MAN  WHO  WON  THE  GAME/' 

"Yee-ee-ee!"  screamed  King  Jimmy,  the  Conqueror, 
as  he  waved  his  tattered  hat  over  his  head.  "Here  he 
is,  fellers!" 

Then  King  Jimmy's  loyal  subjects  danced  and  ca- 
pered and  yelled  and  stood  on  their  heads  and  turned 
cart-wheels. 

Oh,  it  was  a  great  and  thrilling  moment!  Proud? 
Why,  Jimmy  hardly  deigned  to  breathe  just  plain  or- 
dinary every-day  air!  It  was  not  good  enough  for 
him! 

The  Yale  men  were  wild  with  delight,  and  the  crowd 
was  thrilled  with  the  intensity  of  it  all. 

Roland  Ditson  sneered. 

"He's  arrived  too  late,"  Ditson  declared.  "The 
game  is  lost  already,  and  he  cannot  save  it." 

"How  does  the  score  stand?"  Frank  asked,  as  he 
met  Hodge,  who  grasped  his  hand. 

"Five  to  one,  in  their  favor,"  was  the  answer,  "and 
it  is  the  last  of  the  seventh,  with  not  a  man  out  and 
the  bases  full." 

"Give  me  the  ball!" 

Frank  walked  into  the  box,  and,  although  theil 
sympathies  were  with  Virginia,  the  crowd  cheered  him 
He  wore  no  ball-suit,  but  he  had  simply  fluner  aside  his 


'The  Man  Who  Won  the  Game." 

coat  and  prepared  to  pitch  that  inning  just  as  he  was. 
There  was  no  time  for  him  to  "warm  up." 

Every  man  was  ready  now.  Yale  was  herself  again. 
A  little  while  before  those  men  had  believed  it  impos- 
sible to  win  that  game.  Now,  with  Frank  in  the  box, 
they  regarded  it  as  won  already. 

Frank  began  to  pitch.  He  knew  the  situation  was 
desperate,  and  he  did  not  dally.  He  used  all  his  skill 
at  the  very  outset.  He  dealt  out  the  double-shoot 
in  liberal  portions,  and  the  first  man  to  face  him  had 
soon  fanned  the  air  to  the  limit  and  retired.  The  next 
one  met  the  same  fate.  The  third  fared  no  better,  and 
Virginia  obtained  no  more  scores  that  inning. 

Those  Yale  men  gathered  about  Merry  seeking  an 
explanation,  but  he  declined  to  make  it  until  after  the 
game. 

"No  time  to  talk  now,"  he  said.  "We've  got  to  win 
this  game,  and  that  will  keep  us  busy." 

"But  we'll  win  it !"  they  declared. 

King  Jimmy  was  surrounded  by  his  subjects.  Hap- 
py? Why,  it  didn't  seem  that  there  was  room  enough 
for  his  swelling  heart  in  his  bosom. 

The  Yale  men  went  to  bat,  and  it  happened  that 
Merriwell  was  the  first  to  come  up.  He  got  a  two- 
bagger  off  the  second  ball  Paragon  delivered,  and  that 
brought  the  head  of  the  batting-list,  its  strongest  por- 
tion, against  the  U.  V.  pitcher. 

Strange  how  fortune  will  seem  to  turn  in  a  game  of 
ball,  the  same  as  in  a  game  of  cards.  A  little  while 
before  none  of  those  men  seemed  able  to  hit  the  ball: 


(60    "The  Man  Who  Won  the  Game." 

now  they  came  up  one  after  another  and  biffed  it. 
Frank  scored;  Ready  followed  him;  Castleman  came 
round  in  turn — three  scores  before  a  man  went  out. 
Then,  with  Hodge  and  Browning  ahead  of  him  on 
the  bags,  Gamp  put  a  fly  into  the  hands  of  the  left- 
fielder.  Carson  came  up  and  was  thrown  out  at  first. 

The  score  was  five  to  four,  and  it  seemed  that  Yale 
had  suddenly  come  to  a  stand. 

Carker  got  a  good  drive  into  right  field,  and  Brown- 
ing came  puffing  home. 

The  score  was  tied,  and  the  inning  ended  with  it  that 
way. 


The  coming  of  Merriwell  saved  the  game  for  Yale, 
the  final  score  standing  six  to  five.  It  was  a  tight 
squeeze,  but  one  score  was  quite  enough. 

"And  I  owe  everything  to  Jimmy  Lee,"  Merry  de- 
clared, when  the  men  gathered  around  him  after  the 
game. 

Then  he  told  how  Jimmy,  disguised  as  Old  Ferret, 
the  Sleepless  Detective,  had  come  to  his  rescue.  And 
Jimmy  was  dragged  forward  and  made  a  hero,  while 
his  subjects  looked  on  and  yelled  like  wildcats  in  their 
delight. 

But  when  Frank  sent  an  officer  to  look  for  the  ruf- 
fians, they  had  awakened  from  their  drunken  slum- 
bers, taken  the  alarm,  and  disappeared. 

Hodge,  however,  had  better  luck  in  finding  Ditson. 
He  had  a  very  agreeable  interview  w^th  Ditson — that 


"The  Man  Who  Won  the  Game."    161 

is,  it  was  agreeable  to  him.  It  may  have  been  some- 
what painful  to  Ditson. 

As  Bart  was  washing  the  blood  from  his  knuckles  at 
the  hotel  somebody  asked  him  what  he  had  been  doing. 

"Licking  the  meanest  cur  in  Virginia,"  he  replied. 

When  the  Yale  team  departed  for  the  North,  a  great 
crowd  gathered  at  the  station  and  cheered  them  off. 
Elsie  was  there,  and  she  pressed  the  hands  of  both 
Frank  and  Bart,  smiling  upon  them. 

Just  as  Frank  was  about  to  step  onto  the  train,  some- 
body cried : 

Three  cheers  for  Frank  Merriwell,  the  man  who 
won  the  game !" 

As  they  finished  giving  the  cheers,  Merry  lifted  in 
his  arms  a  ragged,  freckle-faced,  blushing  boy,  crying : 

"Here,  gentlemen,  is  the  man  who  won  the  game! 
Three  cheers  for  Jimmy  Lee !" 

And  the  Yale  men  cheered  handsomely.  Then  they 
gave  him  a  regular  Yale  yell. 

And  he  thought  he  was  going  to  die  right  there  from 
happiness. 

Not  until  the  train  had  rolled  away  did  he  come  out 
of  a  trancelike  state.  Then  somebody  told  him  to  wake 
up,  for  Frank  Merriwell  was  gone. 

"But  he's  great!"  said  King  Jimmy.  "He's  the 
greatest  feller  that  ever  lived  in  all  the  whole  world, 
and  I  can  lick  the  man  who  says  he  ain't,  I  don't  care 
if  it  is  Jim  Jeffries !" 


CHAPTER  XX. 

DEFARGE  PLOTTING  AGAIN. 

Although  Bertrand  Defarge  had  failed  in  his  attempt 
to  injure  Merriwell  and  prevent  him  from  leading  the 
Yale  nine  to  victory  in  the  South,  his  malice  had  in 
no  wise  abated,  and  the  team  had  scarcely  returned  to 
New  Haven  before  he  was  again  plotting  darkly 
against  the  young  athlete. 

This  time  he  felt  confident  of  success,  but  he  needed 
assistance  to  carry  out  the  scheme,  which  he  finally 
evolved  for  the  undoing  of  Merriwell.  He  thought 
long  over  the  men  on  whom  he  believed  he  could  de- 
pend, but  the  list  of  Frank's  enemies  had  been  consid- 
erably thinned  and  there  were  few  to  whom  he  could 
look  for  aid  in  his  dastardly  plans  or  whom  he  dared! 
to  take  into  his  confidence. 

At  last  he  decided  upon  Roland  Packard  as  a  safe 
man,  strong  in  his  hatred  of  Merriwell.  With  his  ma- 
licious plot  well  matured,  he  sent  for  Packard,  without 
divulging  anything  of  his  purpose,  but  hinting  myste- 
riously about  "mutual  interests"  and  "a  man  we  both 
hate,"  which  he  was  confident  would  bring  Roland  to 
his  room  even  though  he  might  otherwise  have  ig- 
nored the  invitation ;  for  Packard  was  not  an  admirer 
of  Defarge,  and  their  hatred  of  Frank  was  the  only 
common  ground  between  them. 

But,  as  Defarge  had  hoped,  the  hint  that  the  mat? 


Defarge  Plotting  Again.  163 

they  both  were  desirous  of  injuring  was  the  reason  for 
the  summons  \vas  sufficient. 

As  usual,  Packard  was  in  anything-  but  a  pleasant 
mood  when  he  entered  Defarge's  room,  and  also,  as 
usual,  he  had  been  drinking  heavily. 

"Well,  you  sent  for  me,"  was  Packard's  greeting. 
"What  do  you  want  ?" 

"Don't!"  whispered  Defarge,  slipping  across  the 
room  and  closing  the  door  securely.  "Be  careful  not 
to  talk  too  loud.  I  would  not  have  him  catch  on  fou 
the  world,  and  some  one  might  hear  us." 

"Who  is 'him'?" 

"You  know." 

"Merriwell?" 

"Of  course." 

"I  supposed  so.  If  I  remember  correctly,  you  have 
not  been  in  love  with  Frank  Merriwell  in  the  past." 

"Hardly,"  admitted  Defarge,  although  he  took  care 
to  keep  his  voice  lowered.  "You  know  I  have  hated 
him.  Sit  down,  Packard,  and  we  will  talk  this  matter 
over." 

Packard  finally  accepted  the  chair  which  Bertrand 
urged  him  to  take.  It  was  near  a  little  table,  on  which 
sat  a  cut-glass  decanter  that  contained  a  reddish-amber 
liquid.  Defarge  had  placed  that  decanter  in  a  conspic- 
uous position  for  the  purpose  of  having  it  fall  beneath 
the  eyes  of  his  visitor. 

Roland  Packard,  a  Yale  "medic,"  had  within  a  short 
time  made  a  reputation  for  himself  as  a  heavy  drinker. 


1 64  Defarge  Plotting  Again. 

On  entering  college  he  had  seemed  no  worse  than 
scores  of  other  students  in  this  respect,  but  circum- 
stances and  his  own  disposition  had  led  him  into  bad 
ways.  This  Defarge  knew  very  well,  and  he  had 
rightly  fancied  that  the  sight  of  that  decanter  and  its 
contents  would  attract  Roland. 

Defarge  drew  another  chair  near  the  table  on  which 
sat  the  decanter.  There  were  glasses  on  it  also.  The 
curtains  of  the  window  were  closely  drawn. 

Bertrand  studied  the  face  of  his  visitor  closely  for 
a  moment,  and  what  he  saw  there  seemed  to  trouble 
him  a  little,  for  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  an 
unconscious  gesture  of  dismay.  He  even  hesitated 
about  offering  Packard  any  of  the  contents  of  the  de- 
canter. The  latter  seemed  to  understand  that  some- 
thing was  the  matter,  and  he  frowned  blackly. 

"What  is  it  ?"  he  demanded.    "Spit  it  right  out !" 

"Oh,  nothing — nothing  at  all !"  assured  Bertrand, 
with  a  quick  gesture.  "I  happened  to  think — of  him !" 

"Why  are  you  so  confoundedly  afraid  to  speak  his 
name  ?" 

"Because  I  do  not  wish  to  be  overheard.  You  do 
not  know  everything  that  has  happened,  Packard." 

"So  you  are  afraid  of  him?  Well,  I'm  not !  I'm  not 
afraid  of  a  whole  regiment  of  Merriwells !" 

"Sh !  That  is  why  I  sent  for  you.  You  are  about 
the  only  one  left  who  has  not  surrendered  to  him." 

"That's  right !"  grated  Roland.  "It  used  to  be  dif- 
ferent. Now  everybody  is  bowing  down  to  him  and 
worshiping  him.  If  a  man  opens  his  mouth  about 


Defarge  Plotting  Again.  165 

Merriwell  in  a  public  place  he  has  every  one  who  hears 
him  on  his  back  in  a  moment.  Yale  has  gone  Merri- 
well mad,  Defarge !  Even  the  instructors  and  profess- 
ors take  off  their  hats  to  him !  Think  of  that !  Why, 
he's  a  regular  little  tin  god!  Isn't  it  enough  to  make 
anybody  sick!  Isn't  it  enough  to  drive  a  man  to 
drink!" 

"I  am  afraid  it  has  driven  you  there  too  frequently." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"You  are  drinking  pretty  hard,  Packard." 

"That's  nobody's  business  but  my  own." 

"People  will  talk  about  it ;  besides,  it's  beginning1  to 
show  on  you." 

As  he  made  this  remark,  Bertrand  glanced  at  Pack- 
ard's purplish  countenance. 

And  this  was  a  medical  student!  This  man  was 
one  who  should  know  that  when  he  took  alcohol  into 
his  stomach  he  was  introducing  it  by  a  roundabout 
course  to  his  brain ! 

Packard  growled  like  a  dog. 

"Don't  get  so  personal  in  your  remarks!"  he  re- 
torted. "I  don't  like  it,  especially  from  a  fellow  who 
is  so  afraid  of  Merriwell." 

Defarge  flushed. 

"You  do  not  understand,"  he  declared.  "Merriwell 
has  a  strange  power  over  me.  I  don't  know  what  it 
is,  but  he  can  make  me  do  anything  he  likes." 

"Hypnotism,"  declared  Packard. 

"No !"  cried  the  French  youth.  "I  do  not  believe  in 
hypnotism !" 


166  Defarge  Plotting  Again. 

"That  doesn't  make  any  difference.  Hypnotism  is 
an  actuality,  whether  you  believe  in  it  or  not.  I  have 
known  for  some  time  that  Merriwell  possessed  some 
sort  of  hypnotic  power,  else  how  does  he  always  suc- 
ceed in  turning  his  enemies  into  friends?" 

"He  does  not  always  succeed.  He  has  not  succeeded 
in  your  case — or  in  mine." 

"He's  come  near  it  as  far  as  you  are  concerned." 

"No!  It's  not  true!"  panted  Bertrand  hotly.  "Here, 
here,"  beating  on  his  chest,  "I  feel  the  same  hatred 
for  him  slumbering !  But  he  can  read  my  secrets !  I 
have  to  avoid  him!  I  am  afraid  of  a  man  who  can 
read  my  mind,  for  sometimes  I  think  of  things  I  would 
not  have  any  one  but  myself  know." 

"Haven't  a  doubt  of  that.  We  all  do.  I  wouldn't 
like  to  have  all  my  thoughts  published  in  the  Lit." 

"That's  it.    Besides,  he  holds  me  under  his  thumb." 

"That's  bad,"  said  Packard,  with  a  sneering  laugh. 
"No  man  can  hold  me  there." 

"If  he  could  read  your  thoughts  he  might.  You  do 
not  know  everything  that  has  happened  since  Merriwell 
returned  to  college." 

"You  mean  since  the  Southern  trip  of  the  ball- 
team?" 

"No;  before  that — while  the  men  were  training  for 
the  team.  You  know  I  trained  and  tried  to  get  on." 

"Yes." 

"I  failed." 

"Merriwell  kept  you  off." 

"I  mined  my  chances  one  day  when  I  tried  to  spoil 


Delarge  Plotting  Again.  167 

Merriwell  for  any  use  this  spring.  I  laid  for  him  out 
along  the  road  when  the  men  took  their  run  into  the 
country.  Had  not  the  devil  protected  him,  I'd  fixed 
him  by  dropping  a  stone  on  his  head.  He  fell  down, 
and  the  stone  missed  his  head  by  about  an  inch.  Had 
he  not  fallen  just  at  that  instant — well,  Frank  Merri- 
well would  not  be  running  the  Yale  nine  now." 

"He  certainly  has  Satan's  luck!  He's  a  man  who 
would  not  fall  down  once  in  five  years,  yet  he  fell  just 
then." 

"Exactly.  I  thought  I  had  fixed  him  all  right,  for  it 
was  rather  dark,  being  in  the  early  part  of  the  evening. 
I  hustled  away  from  that  place  and  got  into  the  road 
behind  him  without  being  seen,  coming  up  to  him  with 
others.  And  there  he  was,  all  right  and  well.  But  the 
stone " 

"Ah!  the  stone,"  said  Packard.  "Did  it  recognize 
you  and  sing  out,  'Hello,  Defarge  ?'  " 

"It  had  caused  him  to  stop.  He  knew  somebody  had 
thrown  it.  He  told  them." 

"But  you  had  been  coming  along  the  road  far  be- 
hind with  others.  How  could  it  have  been  you  who 
threw  the  stone?  My  dear  fellow,  you  must  have 
given  yourself  away  by  your  actions." 

"Not  at  all.  But  I  had  been  at  the  tail-end  of  the 
party  when  I  dropped  off  and  cut  across  through  a  lane 
to  reach  the  road  by  which  I  knew  they  would  return 
to  town.  Two  of  the  fellows  saw  me  sit  down  beside 
the  road  as  if  to  fix  my  shoe.  They  came  up  while  I 
was  there  with  the  gang  around  Merriwell,  and  one 


1 68  Defarge  Plotting  Again. 

of  them  spoke  up  and  asked  me  how  the  dickens  I  got 
ahead  of  them." 

"Bad!"  commented  Packard.  "Dead  give  away. 
Put  Merriwell  on  the  scent." 

"No;  Hodge." 

"The  devil!" 

"Just  as  bad!  He  went  back  there  that  very  night 
with  a  lantern  and  found  my  handkerchief  which  I  had 
dropped  on  the  spot  where  I  stood  when  I  threw  the 
stone." 

Packard  nodded. 

"A  man  who  throws  a  stone  at  an  enemy  always 
makes  a  fool  of  himself  by  dropping  a  handkerchief 
or  doing  some  other  foolish  thing  to  give  himself  away. 
I  wonder  why  that  is?  I  don't  understand  it." 

"Well,  Hodge  demanded  my  exposure  to  the  fac.," 
said  Defarge. 

"Like  Hodge." 

"To  save  myself,  I  faked  up  a  pretty  little  story 
about  being  compelled  by  Morgan  to  do  what  I  did. 
I  thought  Merriwell  would  come  down  on  Morgan's 
neck,  and  I  had  it  in  for  Morgan." 

"He's  like  all  the  others — beginning  to  crawl  be- 
fore Merriwell." 

"That's  why  I  hate  him !  I  thought  he  would  stand 
out,  but  he  has  thrown  up  the  sponge.  He's  even  said 
sharp  things  to  me.  I  told  him  he  could  not  make  the 
ball-team.  I  expected  Merriwell  would  drop  him  from 
that,  at  least.  Instead  of  that,  he  came  upon  me  one 
night  here  in  this  room  and  forced  me  to  acknowledge 


Defarge  Plotting  Again.  169 

that  I  had  lied  about  Morgan.  More  than  that,  he 
made  me  promise  that  I  would  never  again  lift  a  hand 
to  harm  him.  And,"  finished  Defarge,  in  a  husky 
whisper,  "may  I  drop  dead  if  I've  ever  been  able  to 
do  so  from  that  time  to  this !" 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

MERRIWELI/S   RESERVE   POWER. 

"Fancy,"  said  Packard. 

"Nothing  of  the  sort !"  declared  Def arge. 

"Then  beyond  a  doubt  you  have  been  hypnotized  by 
the  fellow.  It  is  useless  for  you  to  squirm  and  deny 
it,  that's  just  what  has  happened.  I  know  he  has  hyp- 
notic power,  although  he  does  not  make  a  practise  of 
displaying  it.  You  cannot  make  a  physical  move  to  do 
him  harm  ?" 

"No." 

"But  mentally " 

"I  dislike  him  as  much  as  ever.  I  fear  him  more 
than  ever,  and  I  keep  away  from  him.  But  it  is  not 
natural  for  a  Defarge  to  fear  anybody,  and  my  heart 
grows  hot  when  I  think  he  has  brought  me  to  this  piti- 
ful state.  I  would  harm  him  somehow!  If  I  cannot 
do  it  with  my  own  hand,  at  least  I  can  use  my  brain 
to  do  it." 

"And  succeed  as  you  have  in  the  past — by  getting  it 
in  the  neck." 

"Not  this  time." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  I  shall  bring  to  bear  on  him  something  of 
which  he  has  no  knowledge,  and,  so  long  as  I  keeo  out 


Merri well's  Reserve  Power.          171 

of  his  way,  can  have  no  intimation.  But  I  need  as- 
sistance." 

"That's  why  you  sent  for  me?" 

"Exactly." 

"Do  you  mean  that  I  am  to  pull  your  chestnuts  eut 
of  the  fire?" 

"Not  that.    You  dislike  him  as  much  as  I." 

"Well?" 

"And  there  is  nothing  to  hinder  you  from  helping 
along  any  scheme  to  reach  him." 

"In  other  words,  you  will  do  the  brain-work  and  I 
will  be  your  tool  ?" 

"No,  no,  no !  Why  do  you  put  it  that  way  ?  Have 
I  not  in  the  past  always  been  ready  enough  to  strike 
when  I  could?  My  time  is  past.  If  I  make  another 
open  move  that  fellow  will  expose  me,  and  out  of  Yale 
I'll  have  to  go.  But  I  can't  do  anything  if  I  would." 

Roland  eyed  the  decanter. 

"Do  you  keep  that  stuff  to  look  at  ?"  he  asked. 

"No,  of  course  not — but  you — I  thought  you " 

"Don't  say  anything  nasty  now,  Defarge.  I'm  not 
drunk,  but  I  am  mighty  dry.  I  can  talk  better  if  my 
throat  is  oiled  a  little." 

"Help  yourself,"  invited  Bertrand,  rising  to  place 
the  glasses  and  decanter  nearer  his  visitor. 

Packard's  hand  shook  a  little  as  he  poured  out  a 
brimming  glass  of  whisky.  Defarge  shrugged  his 
shoulders  again  as  he  noticed  this,  and  went  over  to  a 
sideboard,  from  which  he  brought  a  pitcher  of  ice- 


172         Merri well's  Reserve  Power. 

water.     Defarge  poured  a  very  little  of  the  liquor  for 
himself,  mixing  it  with  double  the  amount  of  water. 

"Here's  hoping  you'll  have  better  luck/'  said  Pack- 
ard, lifting  his  glass. 

"Amen!"  said  the  French  youth,  with  almost  ludi- 
crous solemnity,  and  their  glasses  clinked. 

Packard  tossed  off  the  liquor  without  blinking,  ta- 
king a  small  swallow  of  water  as  a  "chaser."  It 
seemed  to  make  him  feel  better,  for  he  rubbed  his  hands 
together  and  brightened  somewhat. 

"Anyhow,  you  know  good  stuff,  Defarge,"  he 
nodded.  "Now  I'm  ready  to  hear  you  unfold  your 
scheme,  but  I  make  no  promises  in  advance." 

"You  will  promise  not  to  say  anything  about  it  if 
you  do  not  go  into  it  with  me?" 

"Oh,  yes,  of  course.  I  didn't  mean  promises  of  that 
sort.  I  know  Merriwell,  and  I  know  that  it  does  seem 
as  if  Satan  himself  could  not  get  the  best  of  the  fellow. 
Therefore,  I  look  askance  on  any  scheme  to  strike  him 
till  I  am  satisfied  that  it  is  good.  His  position  is  so 
secure  now  that  there  seems  little  prospect  of  shaking  it 
in  the  least.  He  is  king  at  Yale." 

"But  kings  have  been  deposed,  you  know.  'Uneasy 
lies  the  head  that  wears  a  crown,'  and  so  forth.  The 
Easter  trip  of  the  nine  has  covered  Merriwell  all  over 
with  the  glory  he  loves  to  bask  in.  The  prospects  for 
Yale  on  the  diamond  are  better  this  year  than  ever  be- 
fore. But  the  nine  is  made  up  to  a  large  extent  of 
Merriwell's  friends,  and  no  one  can  dispute  that. 


Merriwell's  Reserve  Power.          173 

Hodge,  Browning,  Ready,  Gamp,  Carson,  and  Carker 
are  all  of  his  flock.  Lots  of  good  fellows  have  been 
left  out  in  the  cold  in  order  to  squeeze  those  chaps  in. 
The  ones  left  out  are  hollering  for  Yale  and  the  nine 
just  the  same,  but,  if  I  know  anything  of  human  na- 
ture, they  are  simply  hiding  their  wounds,  which  rankle 
all  the  while." 

"But  what  has  this  to  do  with  your  scheme?"  asked 
the  medical  student  impatiently.  "Those  fellows  who 
did  not  make  places  on  the  nine  can't  say  a  word,  for 
Merriwell  has  made  no  blunders  thus  far.  You  can- 
not count  on  a  single  one  of  them  standing  in  with 
you.  The  only  men  in  Yale  to-day  who  are  known 
to  dislike  Merriwell  belong  to  Rupert  Chickering's  set 
of  asses.  They  are  worse  than  nothing  and  nobody. 
They  have  won  the  contempt  of  everybody  outside 
their  own  circle." 

"I  am  not  counting  on  them,  or  on  any  man  in  Yale. 
But  I  know  a  man  who  can  take  the  starch  out  of  Mer- 
riwell." 

"I  doubt  it." 

"I'll  convince  you." 

"Who  is  he?" 

"His  name  is  Hawkins.  I  met  him  in  Paris  last 
summer.  It  happened  that  my  father  was  able  to  do 
him  a  favor,  as  he  had  gotten  into  some  trouble 
through  a  duel  in  which  he  came  within  an  ace  of  kill- 
ing his  man.  Father  had  a  pull,  and  enabled  him  to 
get  off  and  leave  the  country.  Naturally,  he  feels  un- 
der obligations.  He  is  here  in  New  Haven." 


174         Merri well's  Reserve  Power. 

Packard  snapped  his  fingers. 

"What  of  all  that?"  he  asked. 

"Wait  a  little.  This  fellow  is  not  over  twenty-two 
or  three  years  of  age,  but  he  is  the  most  wonderful 
swordsman  I  ever  saw.  You  know  I  can  handle  a 
rapier  a  little  myself.  Well,  this  chap  can  toy  with 
me  as  a  cat  toys  with  a  mouse.  And  he  can  fight  with 
his  fists  and  feet.  You  know  Merriwell  learned  in 
France  to  fight  with  his  feet  as  well  as  with  his  fists. 
Here  is  a  man  who  can  box  as  well  as  Merriwell,  and 
can  kick  better.  It  is  marvelous  the  way  he  can  handle 
those  feet.  He  is  the  only  fellow  I  ever  saw  in  Amer- 
ica who  could  defeat  Merriwell  at  that  trick.  He  can 
do  it !  I  know  it !  But  that  is  not  the  limit.  As  an 
athlete  my  man  is  a  wonder.  I  have  no  hesitation  in 
saying  that  he  can  outpoint  Merriwell  in  any  feat  of 
strength." 

"How  do  you  know  about  that  last?  Merriwell, 
you  know,  believes  it  is  a  mistake  for  any  athlete  to  be 
continually  performing  great  feats  of  strength.  It  is 
his  argument  that  any  athlete  who  follows  up  such  a 
practise  must  overstrain  and  weaken  himself  some 
time,  which  will  do  him  permanent  injury.  I  don't  like 
Merriwell,  but  I  have  a  belief  that  the  fellow  never  dis- 
plays the  full  capacity  of  his  athletic  powers." 

"And  I,"  cried  Defarge,  "believe  he  is  much  over- 
rated in  that  respect." 

"I  used  to  think  so ;  but  I  have  come  to  change  my 
mind.  I  was  forced  to  change  my  mind,  to  tell  the 
truth.  I  didn't  like  to,  but  I  couldn't  help  it." 


Merriwell's  Reserve  Power.          175 

"And  now  you  think  he  really  is  a  wonder?" 

"I  think  he  is  a  remarkable  athlete.  Mind  you,  I 
dislike  the  fellow  just  as  much  as  I  ever  did;  but  I 
have  been  forced  to  acknowledge  to  myself  that  he  is  a 
Bonder." 

"Well,  hanged  if  I'll  ever  acknowledge  that,  even 
to  myself!  He  is  athletic,  I  know;  but  he  is  no  won- 
der. I  won't  believe  he  is  a  wonder !" 

"That  will  not  make  him  any  less  so,  Defarge.  He 
has  a  great  amount  of  reserve  force.  By  that  I  mean 
that  he  seldom  calls  into  play  the  full  amount  of  his 
will-power  and  strength.  When  he  does  so,  the  re- 
sult is  something  astonishing." 

"Tell  me  when  he  has  ever  done  it  and  accomplished 
anything  astonishing." 

"Do  you  remember  the  football-game  with  Harvard  ? 
Of  course  you  do !  No  Yale  or  Harvard  man  will  ever 
forget  that  game.  Well,  you  must  remember  that,  on 
the  very  morning  of  the  day  of  that  game,  Frank  Mer- 
riwell  was  ill  in  bed.  He  had  been  delirious,  and  in 
his  delirium  he  had  fancied  he  was  playing  the  game 
against  Harvard.  He  kept  giving  signals  and  calling 
on  the  team  to  take  the  ball  over  the  Harvard  line,  to 
block  the  Harvard  rush,  to  hold  Harvard  or  die.  A 
fellow  who  was  at  his  bedside  a  few  minutes  told  me 
all  about  it.  He  writhed  and  strained,  and  sweat 
poured  off  him  in  streams. 

"He  was  fighting  that  game  there  in  bed,  and  the 
terrible  exertion,  according  to  what  the  doctors  said. 


176         Merri well's  Reserve  Power. 

was  enough  to  kill  any  man — that  is,  any  ordinary 
man.  The  doctors  thought  the  fever  must  turn  against 
him  on  account  of  that.  But  it  turned  in  his  favor,  and 
he  grew  better  so  fast  that  everybody  was  amazed.  If 
he  had  not  been  an  athlete  with  perfect  development, 
marvelous  strength,  and  almost  perfect  natural  health, 
he  must  have  been  left  weak  and  limp  for  a  week  or 
more  after  that  fever  turned — he  could  not  have  got 
onto  the  football-field  for  a  month  or  more." 

"Go  on,"  laughed  Defarge,  with  curling  lip.  "I 
rather  enjoy  hearing  you  crack  up  Merriwell." 

Packard  frowned  and  looked  displeased. 

"I  am  not  cracking  up  Merriwell ;  I  am  simply  telling 
you  the  actual  facts.  On  the  morning  of  the  day  of 
that  game  Merriwell  was  in  bed,  kept  there  by  the 
doctors,  who  fancied  it  might  prove  fatal  for  him  to 
get  up.  But  he  would  get  up,  and  he  did  so.  Then 
he  called  the  men  of  the  team  to  his  room  and  talked 
to  them  there.  As  he  talked,  so  those  men  say,  his 
eyes  began  to  shine,  a  healthy  glow  came  into  his  face, 
he  stood  erect  amid  them,  and  when  he  grasped  their 
hands  as  they  were  about  to  leave  the  room,  his  grip 
was  strong  and  firm,  as  usual.  In  fact,  it  hardly 
seemed  that  anything  ailed  him  at  all.  That  was  the 
reserve  force  of  the  man  asserting  itself.  I  have 
studied  enough  to  understand  the  meaning  of  it.  Every 
athlete  has  to  a  certain  extent  the  same  reserve  force, 
though  it  may  not  be  fully  developed,  or  may  be  im- 
paired by  some  organic  weakness.  In  Merriwell  it  is 
at  its  full  meridian." 


Merriwell's  Reserve  Power.          177 

"By  heavens!"  cried  Defarge,  smiting  the  fist  of  one 
hand  into  the  open  palm  of  the  other.  "You  are  be- 
coming an  admirer  of  Frank  Merriwell,  Packard !" 

"Nothing  of  the  sort.  I  have  been  studying  the 
fellow,  to  discover  the  secret  of  his  marvelous  power, 
and  I  believe  I  have  discovered  it.  That's  all.  He  is  a 
man  worth  studying,  and  I'm  not  going  to  let  his  per- 
sonal friends  be  the  only  ones  to  do  so." 

Bertrand  shook  his  head,  as  if  he  did  not  quite  under- 
stand this  hard-drinking  medical  student  who  made  a 
study  of  his  enemies  as  well  as  his  friends. 

"To  go  on,"  continued  Roland,  toying  with  his 
whisky-glass,  "and  to  show  in  the  man  the  remarkable 
extent  of  this  great  reserve  power  of  which  I  speak, 
just  think  of  what  followed  on  the  day  of  that  game. 
Merriwell  insisted  on  having  reports  of  the  progress 
of  the  game  brought  to  him  constantly,  and  half  a 
dozen  messengers  were  kept  busy  running  from  the 
telegraph-office  to  his  room  in  Vanderbilt.  He  sat 
there  watching  the  progress  of  the  game,  tracing  out 
every  move  on  a  diagram,  and  he  knew  just  what  was 
taking  place. 

"In  his  mind  he  saw  Harvard  slamming  Yale  all 
over  the  field  in  the  first  half,  while  Yale  made  des- 
perate stands  at  critical  times,  and  so  kept  the  crimson 
from  scoring.  To  watch  that,  for  a  man  in  his  posi- 
tion, captain  of  the  Yale  team,  should  have  been  enough 
to  put  him  back  into  bed.  Did  it?  No!  He  grew 
stronger !  He  felt  that  he  could  go  onto  the  field  and 
lead  his  men.  He  began  to  walk  the  floor  of  his  room 


178         Merriwell's  Reserve  Power. 

like  a  caged  panther,  and  with  every  minute  he  felt 
the  reserve  force  taking  fuller  possession  of  him." 

Defarge  was  silent  now,  held  thus  by  the  singular 
earnestness  of  the  speaker,  who  had  been  one  of  Mer- 
riwell's most  active  and  bitter  enemies. 

"The  second  half  of  the  game  began,"  pursued  Pack- 
ard, "and  Merriwell  soon  saw  that  the  case  had  become 
even  more  desperate.  Yale  was  swept  down  before 
Harvard's  rushes.  In  short  order  Harvard  got  a  goal 
from  the  field.  When  the  message  telling  of  that  was 
brought  to  Merriwell  it  changed  him  completely.  He 
sent  the  messenger  for  a  cab,  and  he  literally  flung  him- 
self into  his  football-suit.  Then  he  went  leaping  down 
to  that  cab,  flung  himself  in,  and  gave  the  driver  ten 
dollars  to  drive  like  the  devil  to  the  field.  You  know 
what  happened  when  he  arrived.  Yale  was  making  a 
last-ditch  stand,  with  Harvard  having  things  her  own 
way.  It  looked  like  a  touch-down  for  Harvard.  Then 
Merriwell  came  rushing  onto  the  field,  yelling  for  Yale 
to  'tear  'em  up/ 

"The  whole  Yale  side  saw  and  recognized  him,  and 
you  must  remember  that  ten  thousand  people  rose  up 
as  one  man  and  roared  his  name.  Then  he  ordered 
one  of  the  men  out  and  went  in  himself,  despite  the 
protests  of  his  friends.  And  that  fellow,  who  had 
been  sick  and  delirious  a  short  time  before,  was  a  holy 
terror  the  moment  he  reached  the  field.  Nothing  could 
stop  him.  He  set  everybody  mad  with  excitement.  He 
made  perfect  Trojans  of  his  exhausted  men.  He  dum- 
founded  Harvard.  He  caused  those  ten  thousand 


Merriwell's  Reserve  Power.          179 

watching  spectators  on  the  Yale  side  to  yell  like  ten 
thousand  maniacs.  And,  last  of  all,  he  got  the  ball 
himself,  went  through  Harvard's  tacklers,  ran  the 
length  of  the  field,  leaped  square  over  the  head  of  a 
Harvard  man  who  was  in  his  path,  and  made  a  touch- 
down !  You  remember  that,  Def  arge  ?" 

Bertrand  groaned  and  nodded. 

"I  guess  I  do!"  he  muttered.  "Oh,  if  any  other 
man  had  done  it!" 

"No  other  man  on  the  Yale  team  could  have  done 
it,"  asserted  Packard.  "When  he  had  kicked  a  goal 
and  knew  the  game  was  won  for  Yale,  his  great 
reserve  power  gave  out  and  he  toppled  over.  Now, 
that  is  the  kind  of  man  you  are  up  against  when  you 
buck  Merriwell.  If  you  put  a  man  against  him,  you 
must  have  a  wonder  who  can  overcome  the  most  re- 
markable fellow  Yale  College  has  ever  developed.  I, 
his  bitter  enemy,  tell  you  this.  Now,  do  you  think 
for  a  single  moment  that  you  have  such  a  man?" 

"I  know  it!"  declared  Defarge  loudly  and  confi- 
dently. "I  can  prove  it !" 

"Where  is  he?" 

"Here!" 

The  door  had  opened  to  admit  a  remarkable-appear- 
,  *ng  youth. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE   SCAR-FACED   ATHLETE. 

Packard  started  to  his  feet  and  turned.  He  saw  a 
well-dressed,  splendidly  formed  youth.  But  it  was  the 
face  of  the  newcomer  that  instantly  attracted  the  no- 
tice of  the  medical  student. 

Such  a  face !  It  was  wrinkled  and  scarred  and  dis- 
figured with  red  and  purple  discolorations.  Plainly  it 
had  been  burned  in  the  most  horrible  manner. 

The  stranger  paused,  but  Defarge  immediately  said : 

"Come  right  in,  Hawkins.  This  is  the  gentleman  I 
wished  you  to  meet." 

The  stranger  closed  the  door  and  came  forward. 
There  was  something  suggestive  of  confidence  and 
power  in  his  walk,  in  his  every  movement.  Packard 
immediately  realized  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of  a 
remarkable  man. 

"Mr.  Packard,  this  is  my  friend  Mr.  Hawkins,"  said 
Defarge. 

Hawkins  put  out  his  hand,  which  the  medical  student 
accepted.  The  grip  of  the  scar-faced  youth  was  soft 
as  velvet,  yet  hard  as  iron.  His  hand  was  the  hand 
of  a  trained  athlete,  with  every  inch  of  him  in  per- 
fect condition.  More  and  more  Packard  realized  that 
the  stranger  was  uncommon. 

"I  have  just  been  telling  Mr.  Packard  of  you,"  said 


The  Scar-faced  Athlete.  181 

Defarge.  "That  is,  I  mentioned  you  to  him.  Mr. 
Packard  is  a  medico." 

"Indeed?"  said  the  stranger,  in  a  voice  that  was 
pleasant,  yet  suggested  power.  "Why  is  it  that  medi- 
cal students  seem  prone  to  indulge  in  stimulants?  Is 
it  because  they  acquire  the  habit  by  taking  liquor  to 
brace  their  nerves  before  going  into  the  dissecting- 
room  ?" 

He  had  looked  at  Packard  with  a  pair  of  intensely 
piercing  eyes,  and  Roland  shivered  a  bit  before  that 
deep  stare. 

"I  presume  you  judge  by  the  decanter  here,"  said 
Packard,  with  a  motion  toward  the  table.  "Well,  your 
friend  Defarge  put  that  there." 

"I  judge  from  your  appearance,"  said  the  newcomer 
frankly.  "Your  face  shows  that  you  drink  more  than 
is  good  for  you." 

Packard  frowned.  He  did  not  fancy  being  told  his 
failings  thus  directly  by  a  stranger. 

"That  is  my  business,"  he  said.  "I  presume  I  have 
a  right  to  drink  as  much  as  I  like !" 

"No,  you  have  not." 

Roland  was  astounded. 

"Have  not?"  he  gasped. 

"I  said  that." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  any  man  who  has  a  taste  for  liquor,  and 
drinks  as  much  as  he  likes,  makes  himself  troublesome 
to  others  in  some  way,  and  no  man  has  a  right  to 
trouble  others  unnecessarily.  Besides,  you  set  a  bad 


1 82  The  Scar-faced  Athlete. 

example  for  other  students.  Although  we  may  not 
know  it,  every  one  of  us  does  good,  or  works  harm,  by 
our  example." 

Packard  broke  into  a  harsh  laugh. 

"What  the  devil  have  you  here,  Def arge  ?"  he  cried. 
"Is  this  a  temperance  crank  ?" 

The  effect  of  this  speech  on  the  stranger  was  not  dis- 
cernible, for  his  scarred  face  remained  strangely  inex- 
pressive. 

"I  am  no  crank,"  he  said;  "but  I  simply  tell  you 
the  truth.  Ever  since  the  world  began,  the  man 
who  has  dared  to  tell  the  truth  has  been  called  a  crank. 
Lots  of  these  cranks  have  suffered  and  died  for  their 
convictions.  Many  of  them  were  put  to  death  be- 
cause they  believed  and  preached  things  which  the 
world  soon  after  accepted  as  scientific  truths." 

Packard  gave  himself  a  shake.  Surely  this  was  a 
remarkable  chap.  All  at  once  Roland  seized  the  de- 
canter and  poured  out  a  glass  of  whisky,  which  he 
offered  to  the  scar-faced  youth. 

"Here,"  he  said,  "take  this.  It  will  cheer  you  up 
You  must  be  dead  sore  on  yourself.  I'll  drink  with 
you;  Def  arge  will  join  us.  Let's  be  agreeable." 

The  one  invited  shook  his  head. 

"No,"  he  said ;  "I  am  one  of  those  peculiar  persons 
who  practises  what  he  preaches." 

"You  do  not  drink?" 

"No." 

"Not  even  beer?" 

"Not  a  drop  of  anything  that  has  alcohol  in  it.     S 


The  Scar-faced  Athlete.  183 

am  an  athlete,  and  no  man  who  seeks  to  reach  his 
highest  ability  as  an  athlete  should  deliberately  poison 
himself  with  alcohol." 

"But  a  little  is  good  for  a  man.  At  least,  it  is 
good  just  when  he  is  on  the  point  of  making  some  great 
exertion." 

"It  is  not!"  positively  declared  the  other.  "It  is 
the  very  worst  thing  he  can  take." 

"Oh,  get  out !  Anybody  knows  it  gives  him  a  feel- 
Ing  of  strength." 

"A  false  feeling,  sir.  Tests  and  investigations  have 
shown  that  a  man  can  lift  greater  weights  and  perform 
severer  feats  of  strength  when  he  has  not  taken  a 
single  drop  of  liquor  than  he  can  when  he  has  taken  a 
moderate  amount  to  stimulate  him.  The  liquor  makes 
him  believe  himself  stronger  and  makes  him  want  to 
display  his  power,  but  every  swallow  robs  him  of  vital 
energy.  Now,  in  your  case,  your  face  plainly  shows 
that  you  are  swiftly  becoming  an  habitual  drinker. 
You  must  stop  it  soon,  or  you  will  go  straight  to  the 
devil,  sir." 

Packard  had  been  standing  with  the  glass  of  whisky 
in  his  hand.  As  the  man  talked,  Roland  observed  his 
hand  beginning  to  shake. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "at  least  it  is  good  to  steady  the 
nerves."  And  he  dashed  off  the  fiery  stuff  at  one  great 
swallow. 

"That's  another  mistaken  belief,"  declared  Hawkins 
quietly.  "Sect  are  your  nerves  any  steadier  than 
mine  ?  You  drink ;  I  do  not.  Are  your  nerves  steadier 


184  The  Scar-faced  Athlete. 

to-day  than  they  were  before  you  began  to  drink  ?  Can 
you  not  remember  the  time  when  your  hand  never 
trembled?" 

"Yes,  but " 

"But  now  your  nerves  shake  at  times,  and  you  drink 
whisky  to  steady  them.  The  whisky  has  weakened 
them  already  by  putting  a  strain  upon  them,  and  that 
is  why  they  shake.  When  you  drink  more  whisky 
you  steady  them  with  a  renewed  strain ;  but  that  strain 
simply  results  eventually  in  making  them  still  weaker. 
Being  a  student  of  medicine,  you  ought  to  know  that." 

Packard  did  know  it,  but  it  seemed  that  he  had 
never  thought  of  it  seriously  before.  He  knew  plenty 
of  medical  students  who  were  steady  drinkers,  and 
they  seemed  careless  of  the  final  result.  They  were  a 
jovial  set  of  fellows  now;  but  Packard  suddenly  real- 
ized that  the  future  must  hold  disappointment  and  fail- 
ure for  many  of  them. 

For  one  single  instant  a  grisly  phantom  of  future 
ruin  rose  before  Packard  himself,  but  he  quickly 
brushed  it  aside,  forcing  a  laugh. 

"I  believe  in  living  while  we  live,"  he  declared. 
"What's  the  use  of  denying  ourselves  every  good  thing 
of  life  in  order  to  live  a  year  or  two  longer  ?" 

"Every  good  thing  of  life!  My  dear  Mr.  Packard, 
you  are  making  one  of  the  greatest  errors  a  man  can 
make.  Look  at  me.  I  deny  myself  no  good  thing  of 
life.  Whisky  is  not  good.  Alcohol  is  not  good  in 
any  form.  It  is  only  the  boy  with  the  inherited  taste 
for  it  that  ever  relishes  his  first  drink.  To  a  perfectly 


The  Scar-faced  Athlete.  185 

healthy  fellow  that  first  drink  is  repulsive.  You  know 
it,  Mr.  Packard.  You  say  you  believe  in  living  and 
enjoying  life.  Man,  you  do  not  know  what  it  is  to 
enjoy  life!  You  cannot  know  what  it  is  as  long  as 
you  do  not  feel  perfect  health  pulsing  all  through  your 
body.  No  drinker  ever  feels  like  that.  Under  the 
influence  of  the  stuff  he  takes  into  his  stomach,  he 
may  feel  good  for  a  short  time,  but  the  reaction  always 
follows,  and  he  suffers  for  his  short  enjoyment.  It 
is  not  a  case  of  shortening  life  a  year  or  two,  but  most 
drinkers  shorten  it  from  ten  to  thirty  years.  And  they 
die  wretched  wrecks.  What's  the  use  to  talk  about 
it?" 

"Didn't  you  ever  drink?"  asked  Roland  wonder- 
ingly. 

"Yes." 

"Ahf" 

"Long  ago  I  was  fool  enough  to  do  so.  I  was  a 
boy  then,  and  I  thought  it  manly.  But  I  learned  my 
lesson  and  learned  it  well.  See  this  face!  It  marks 
me  for  life  and  makes  me  an  object  of  repulsion.  If 
I  had  never  touched  liquor,  I  doubt  if  I  should  have 
been  thus  disfigured  now.  I  entered  a  burning  build- 
ing, in  an  attempt  to  rescue  a  man.  Another  boy  was 
with  me.  We  flung  open  the  door  of  a  room,  and 
fire  shot  out  and  enveloped  me.  It  seemed  as  if  my 
very  breath  took  flame.  I  fell  to  the  floor,  and  the 
other  chap  dragged  me  away." 

"Wasn't  he  burned?" 

"No." 


1 86  The  Scar-faced  Athlete. 

"It  just  happened  that  way.     It  was  fate." 

"It  seemed  to  be  punishment.  I  hated  the  other 
fellow,  and  I  had  tried  to  do  him  harm.  He  was  an 
athletic  chap,  and  he  would  not  drink.  I  hated  him 
because  he  seemed  to  think  himself  too  good  to  drink. 
He  had  been  given  a  medal  for  saving  a  life.  I  got 
hold  of  that  medal.  Another  boy  was  accused  of 
stealing  it.  As  I  did  not  like  the  other  fellow,  I  should 
have  remained  quiet  and  let  things  go ;  but  when  I  was 
burned  I  thought  my  time  had  come.  I  confessed. 
Of  course,  all  the  odium  of  the  affair  fell  on  me  when 
I  recovered,  and  I  was  compelled  to  leave  school.  But 
I  swore  then  and  there  that  I  would  never  touch  a 
drink  again,  and  that  I  would  become  an  athlete  capa- 
ble of  defeating  the  fellow  I  had  tried  to  down.  From 
that  day  to  this  I  have  worked  steadily  to  build  myself 
up  and  reach  a  state  of  perfection.  I  believe  I  have 
succeeded,  and  now  I  am  ready  for  the  test.  All  I 
ask  is  to  meet  my  old  enemy  in  any  kind  of  a  con- 
test." 

"And  this  enemy  of  whom  you  speak — what  is  his 
name  ?" 

"Frank  Merriwell!"  declared  the  youthful  athlete 
with  the  scarred  face. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A   MAGNIFICENT   ATHLETE. 

"AH"!  I  suspected  it!"  exclaimed  Packard,  sitting 
down. 

Bertrand  Defarge  smiled  with  satisfaction,  and 
pushed  along  a  chair  for  Hawkins,  who  accepted  it, 
permitting  Defarge  to  take  his  hat. 

"He  is  here,"  said  the  scar-faced  youth.  "I  learn 
that  he  is  something  of  an  athlete,  and  that  he  is  rated 
as  a  king  among  you.  I  shall  never  be  satisfied  until  I 
have  defeated  him.  It  has  been  my  controlling  desire 
since  those  days  at  Fardale.  I  have  never  permitted 
it  to  lessen.  I  have  looked  at  my  face  and  said  to 
myself :  'Let  that  aid  you  to  remember.' ' 

Packard  rubbed  his  hands  with  satisfaction.  He 
was  beginning  to  like  this  fellow. 

"And  you  have  worked  hard  to  become  strong  and 
skilful?" 

"I  have  worked  hard  in  every  way.  I  have  had 
the  best  instructors  a  man  could  have.  My  muscles 
are  firm  as  iron,  my  nerves  are  steady  as  the  earth 
itself,  and  I  believe  there  is  no  man  living  who  can 
meet  and  defeat  me  in  every  department.  I  can  shoot 
with  the  best  experts,  either  rifle  or  pistol.  I  can 
fence  with  masters  of  the  art  and  defeat  them,  I  have 
thrown  some  of  the  greatest  amateur  wrestlers.  As 


l88  A  Magnificent  Athlete. 

an  unknown,  I  have  defeated  professional  pugilists 
who  were  regarded  as  wonders.  I  am  satisfied  that  I 
have  reached  the  highest  point  possible  for  me  to  at- 
tain, and  now  all  I  ask  is  to  meet  this  man  Merriwell." 

Defarge  had  drawn  up  a  chair,  and  was  smiling  his 
satisfaction. 

Packard's  interest  had  increased  rapidly.  To  him- 
self he  now  acknowledged  that  this  youth  with  the 
scarred  face  was  decidedly  fascinating,  to  say  the  least. 

"Of  course,  you  realize  the  kind  of  a  man  Merriwell 
has  become?"  said  Roland.  "He  has  never  met  his 
match  since  entering  Yale,  and  he  has  escaped  un- 
scathed from  all  the  traps  and  snares  laid  for  him." 

Hawkins  nodded  grimly. 

"That  is  just  the  kind  of  a  man  I  have  been  train- 
ing to  defeat,"  he  said.  "All  I  ask  now  is  the  oppor- 
tunity." 

"And  you  and  I,"  said  Defarge,  speaking  to  Pack- 
ard, "must  furnish  the  opportunity  for  him," 

"How  can  we  do  it?"  asked  Roland,  growing  more 
and  more  interested. 

"Have  you  heard  that  Merriwell  is  going  to  give  a 
big  supper  to  his  friends  ?  He  calls  it  an  athletic  sup- 
per. Do  you  know  anything  about  that  ?" 

"I've  heard  something  about  it." 

"That  is  the  time  to  strike  him.  He  should  be  led 
into  the  trap  in  the  presence  of  his  great  gathering  of 
friends." 

"But  I  fail  to  see  how  I  am  to  help  bring  that 
about." 


A  Magnificent  Athlete.  189 

"Your  brother  is  one  of  Merriwell's  particular 
friends." 

"Not  exactly  a  particular  friend,  as  he  has  never 
belonged  to  Merriwell's  flock;  still,  I  think  he  is  re- 
garded by  Merriwell  as  a  friend." 

"Exactly.  That  is  what  I  have  been  counting  on. 
Your  brother  is  almost  certain  to  receive  an  invitation 
to  this  supper." 

"It  is  very  likely  that  he  may." 

"Well,  you  have  been  mistaken  for  him  hundreds 
of  times.  In  fact,  your  very  best  friends  have  trouble 
in  telling  you  apart.  Now,  can't  you  fix  it  some  way 
that  the  invitation  will  not  reach  the  hand  of  your 
brother?" 

Roland  whistled. 

"I  begin  to  see  your  little  game,"  he  said.  "It  is 
rather  daring,  to  say  the  least." 

"But  you  have  worked  just  as  daring  games  before. 
You  have  impersonated  your  brother  more  than  once. 
Dressed  in  his  clothes,  who  can  say  you  are — not — 
Oliver?" 

Defarge's  voice  sank,  and  he  spoke  the  final  words 
slowly,  staring  hard  at  Roland.  Packard  noticed  this 
queer  look  and  caught  the  strange  hesitation  in  the 
French  youth's  voice. 

"Well,  what  the  dickens  is  the  matter  with  you?" 
he  exclaimed  harshly.  "Why  are  you  staring  at  me 
like  that?" 

"I — I  was  thinking,"  faltered  Bertrand. 

"Thinking  what?" 


190  A  Magnificent  Athlete. 

"That  you  are  beginning  to  look  different  from  your 
brother." 

"Different?     How?" 

"Why,  your  face — it  is  flushed.  The  whisky  you 
drink " 

But  that  was  not  all.  Bertrand  could  discern  a 
greater  difference  than  that  made  by  the  unnatural 
flush  brought  to  Packard's  face  by  the  intoxicants  he 
drank.  The  fellow's  countenance  was  somehow  losing 
its  refinement  and  delicacy,  and  was  taking  on  a  faint 
suggestion  of  grossness  and  brutality,  telling  that 
drink  had  lowered  Packard's  morals  and  filled  his  mind 
with  evil  thoughts. 

It  is  a  fact  that  the  thoughts  of  any  boy  are  finally 
written  on  his  face  in  lines  that  all  may  read.  If  he 
has  kind,  elevating,  noble  thoughts,  his  face  becomes 
handsome  and  attractive  in  its  expression;  but,  no 
matter  how  handsome  he  may  have  grown  to  be,  if 
he  begins  to  indulge  in  evil,  brutal  thoughts,  the  result 
will  be  a  gradual  but  certain  change  of  countenance 
that  will  plainly  indicate  the  trend  of  his  mind. 

Defarge  had  detected  the  growing  difference  in  the 
looks  of  the  brothers. 

"Oh,  Oliver  is  a  pale-faced  fool!"  petulantly  ex- 
claimed Roland.  "I've  told  him  so." 

"But  your  flushed  countenance  would  betray  you," 
said  Bertrand.  "Merriwell  may  have  been  deceived 
in  the  past,  but  he  would  not  be  this  time.  He  would 
recognize  the  difference  between  you  and  Oliver.  That 
would  ruin  the  game." 


A  Magnificent  Athlete.  191 

"I  fail  to  see  quite  through  the  game,  anyhow. 
Even  if  I  were  to  obtain  possession  of  my  brother's 
invitation  to  this  supper,  and  should  attend  in  his 
place,  how  could  I  bring  about  the  purpose  we  wish 
to  accomplish?" 

"Every  guest  is  permitted  to  bring  a  friend  to  the 
supper.  I  have  heard  that  they  are  urged  to  bring  a 
friend  along.  That  would  give  you  the  chance  to  take 
Hawkins  to  that  supper." 

"That's  so,"  nodded  Roland.  "By  Jove!  you  have 
quite  a  clear  head  on  you,  Defarge." 

"Oh,  I  can  plan,  even  if  I  cannot  make  a  direct 
move  against  Merriwell." 

"And  at  the  supper  Hawkins  could  challenge  Merri- 
well to  various  feats." 

"That's  the  idea." 

"It  could  be  brought  about  very  cleverly." 

"There  should  be  no  trouble." 

"And  Merriwell  could  not  refuse  to  accept  the  chal- 
lenge." 

"Of  course  not." 

"Defarge,  it  is  worth  considering !  I  believe  it  may 
be  done." 

"But  your  looks — your  flushed  face " 

"Oh,  don't  worry  about  that.  I  know  a  little  drug 
that  will  take  all  the  color  out  of  my  face  and  make 
me  look  as  pale  as  my  goody-good  brother." 

"And  would  you  use  it  ?" 

"In  a  minute!" 

"Then  I  believe  you  can  carry  out  my  plan.'1 


'192  A  Magnificent  Athlete. 

Packard  rubbed  his  hands  together  again. 

"It's  worth  trying — worth  trying!"  he  muttered. 
"Oh,  it  would  be  great  sport  to  have  Merriwell  de- 
feated in  feats  of  strength  before  all  his  friends!" 

"But  the  best  thing  to  do  would  be  to  have  him  de- 
feated at  boxing  first,  following  that  with  a  fencing- 
bout.  In  this  bout  Hawkins  could " 

Defarge  leaned  over  and  whispered  the  rest  of  the 
sentence  in  Packard's  ear : 

"Run  Merriwell  through  the  body!" 

"Whew!"  whistled  Packard  once  more.  "Will  he 
doit?" 

"He  hates  Merriwell.  Why  shouldn't  he?  Look  at 
that  face !" 

Packard  seized  the  decanter  and  turned  whisky  into 
two  glasses. 

"Here!"  he  cried,  passing  one  to  Defarge.  "To 
the  downfall  of  Merriwell!  Drink  it!" 

Quickly  the  strange  youth  caught  a  glass,  into  which 
he  poured  some  water  from  the  pitcher. 

"I  drink  with  you !"  he  exclaimed.  "To  the  down- 
fall of  Frank  Merriwell !" 

"But  now,"  said  Packard,  "before  I  go  any  farther, 
before  I  take  this  step,  I  must  be  convinced  that  Mr. 
Hawkins  can  stand  a  show  with  Merriwell — that  there 
is  a  possibility  of  his  defeating  Merriwell." 

"How  do  you  wish  to  be  convinced  ?"  asked  Haw- 
kins, rising. 

"With  my  eyes/* 

"You  shall  be." 


A  Magnificent  Athlete.  193 

Hawkins  turned  to  Defarge,  who  nodded.  Imme- 
diately the  youth  with  the  scarred  face  began  to  strip. 
He  tossed  aside  his  coat  and  vest  and  peeled  down  to 
his  underclothes  in  short  order. 

Packard  gasped  with  astonishment  and  admiration, 
for  the  stranger  was  magnificently  developed,  and  his 
muscles  were  those  of  the  perfect  athlete.  His  legs 
were  lithe,  yet  powerful  and  muscular;  his  waist  was 
strong  and  slender;  his  chest  was  full  and  deep;  his 
shoulders  were  broad  and  handsome;  his  arms — ah, 
what  arms  they  were !  They  might  have  belonged  to 
Samson !  And  his  neck  was  the  neck  of  the  fully  de- 
veloped athlete. 

But  above  this  superbly  handsome  body  rose  that 
horribly  scarred  face.  Packard  shuddered  when  he 
looked  at  it 

"Do  I  strip  all  right?"  asked  the  stranger  quietly. 

"By  Jupiter!  you  are  a  physical  marvel!"  cried  the 
bewildered  medical  student  "Apollo  could  not  have 
had  a  more  perfect  figure !" 

Was  it  a  smile  of  satisfaction  that  contorted  the 
scarred  face  of  Hawkins? 

"The  beauty  of  my  body  is  all  I  possess,"  he  said 
bitterly.  "My  face  frightens  people.  Sometimes,  in 
my  own  room,  I  put  a  mask  over  my  face,  tear  off  my 
clothes,  and  stand  before  a  long  mirror  to  admire  my 
muscular  body.  Then  I  try  to  fancy  myself  with  a 
face  suited  to  this  body — such  a  face  as  I  must  have 
had  but  for  that  fire.  Oh,  it  is  terrible  to  know  that 


194  A  Magnificent  Athlete. 

I  must  always  wear  this  disfigured  face!  I  have  no 
real  friends!  I  have  but  one  ambition  in  life." 

"And  that  is " 

"To  defeat  and  conquer  Frank  Merriwell!  I  shall 
doit,  too!" 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

PACKARD     IS     SATISFIED. 

Having  made  this  statement,  the  young  athlete  of 
the  scarred  face  turned  to  his  clothing,  as  if  he  would 
dress. 

"I  am  not  yet  satisfied,"  said  Packard.  "Let  me 
see  you  display  some  of  your  powers  and  skill." 

"Sit  down,"  invited  the  one  addressed.  "Sit  on  that 
chair." 

He  pointed  at  a  plain  wooden  chair,  and  Packard 
sat  on  it,  as  directed. 

Immediately  the  youth  of  the  hideous  face  stooped, 
thrust  his  arm  under  the  front  crosspiece  of  the  chair- 
frame,  grasped  the  back  piece,  and  said: 

"Hold  fast  to  the  chair  and  sit  quite  still." 

The  medic  did  as  directed.  Hawkins  took  a  deep 
breath,  and  then  his  muscles  began  to  swell  and  strain 
as  he  rose.  And  as  he  straightened  up  he  lifted  the 
chair  from  the  floor  with  Packard  upon  it — up,  up,  up! 
The  muscles  of  that  magnificent  upper  arm  and  shoul- 
der stood  out  hard  and  rigid !  They  swelled  and  grew 
taut  across  the  back !  Up,  up,  till  Packard  was  lifted 
shoulder-high  and  held  at  arm's  length,  still  sitting  on 
that  chair! 

It  was  a  most  astounding  feat  of  strength,  and  Pack- 
ard was  breathless  with  admiration. 


196  Packard  is  Satisfied. 

But  how  was  the  fellow  to  put  him  down? 

After  a  moment  Hawkins  began  to  stoop,  lowering 
his  body  gradually,  still  balancing  Packard  on  the  chair 
as  he  let  him  down.  Slowly,  gently,  deliberately  the 
athlete  lowered  that  chair  and  its  human  burden,  de- 
positing it  lightly  upon  the  floor. 

"There!"  cried  Defarge  triumphantly;  "what  do  you 
think  of  that?" 

"It  was  simply  astounding !"  admitted  Roland,  jump- 
ing up  and  drawing  a  deep  breath. 

"Are  you  satisfied  ?"  asked  Hawkins  quietly. 

"As  to  your  strength,  yes." 

"You  believe  I  am  stronger  than  Merriwell?" 

"You  must  be.  I  know  Merriwell  seldom  exhibits 
the  full  extent  of  his  strength,  but  I  cannot  conceive 
that  he  is  stronger  than  that.  Can  you  wrestle?" 

"Yes,  in  any  style  you  may  name.  I  have  taken 
lessons  from  masters  of  the  art." 

"Then  you  should  be  able  to  throw  Merriwell.  But 
the  fellow  is  skilful  in  many  other  ways." 

"For  instance?" 

"He  can  handle  his  fists  and  feet,  as  I  have  said." 

"There  are  a  set  of  boxing-gloves  on  the  wall.  You 
may  put  on  one  pair  and  Defarge  the  other.  Then 
you  may  both  come  at  me  and  try  to  hit  me." 

"What  will  you  do?" 

"I  will  not  permit  either  of  you  to  hit  me  once." 

"Oh,  come  off!"  laughed  Packard.  "We  can  ger 
you  between  us,  and  you  can't  help  being  hit." 

"If  either  of  you  are  able  to  hit  me  one  fair  blow 


Packard  is  Satisfied.  197 

in  five  minutes'  time,  I  will  admit  that  I  am  not  yet 
prepared  to  meet  Merriwell." 

"All  right ;  we'll  show  you !"  cried  Packard.  "Move 
the  furniture  out  of  the  way.  But,  before  you  begin, 
I  want  you  to  know  that  I  am  something  of  a  boxer. 
Once  on  a  time  I  took  lessons  from  Buster  Kelley,  New 
Haven's  great  fighter,  for  the  purpose  of  getting  into 
shape  for  a  go  with  Merriwell." 

"So  much  the  better,"  nodded  the  undisturbed  ath- 
lete, "for  it  will  serve  as  a  more  satisfactory  test." 

So  the  furniture  was  moved  back  from  the  center 
of  the  room,  and  Packard  and  Defarge  threw  off 
coats  and  vests,  drew  on  the  gloves,  and  prepared  for 
the  encounter. 

When  they  were  ready,  the  athlete  said: 

"Before  we  begin  I  will  warn  you  that  I  may  often 
defend  myself  with  my  feet,  as  well  as  with  my  hands. 
I  shall  strike  neither  of  you  with  my  clenched  fists,  but 
I  may  push  you  with  either  feet  or  hands." 

"That's  all  right,"  grinned  Roland.  "I'll  risk  but 
I  can  dodge  your  feet" 

"You  may  find  it  more  difficult  than  you  think.  Are 
you  ready?" 

"Ready,"  said  Packard. 

"Ready,"  said  Defarge. 

"Then  come  at  me,  and  make  it  as  hot  as  you  like." 

They  accepted  the  invitation,  both  springing  for- 
ward. He  was  away  before  them,  dancing  to  one  side, 
quickly  leading  them  to  separate.  Then,  like  a  flash, 
he  flitted  between  them. 


198  Packard  is  Satisfied. 

Both  struck  at  him — and  missed ! 

He  laughed  in  their  faces.  Packard  followed  him 
up  closely  and  struck  again  and  again.  The  wonder- 
ful youth  of  the  scarred  face  parried  or  dodged  every 
blow.  But  Defarge  came  rushing  in,  and  they  seemed 
to  have  the  fellow  cornered.  Then,  quick  as  a  flash, 
Hawkins  placed  one  foot  against  Packard's  breast  and 
gave  him  a  push  that  flung  him  with  a  heavy  thud  to 
the  floor.  Defarge  was  tripped  up  and  sent  sprawling 
over  Packard,  and  the  athlete  stood  back,  his  arms 
folded,  a  chuckling  laugh  escaping  his  lips. 

Packard  got  up,  uttering  words  of  mingled  anger 
and  wonder.  Why,  it  seemed  utterly  impossible  to 
corner  the  fellow !  Roland  vowed  he'd  not  be  caught 
again  by  that  foot-trick. 

Defarge  was  up. 

"Now!"  cried  Packard,  "both  together!" 

Again  they  rushed;  again  that  handsomely  built 
youth  easily  avoided  them.  They  were  separated,  and 
once  more  he  flitted  between  them.  Neither  touched 
him,  though  both  tried  to  do  so. 

Packard  set  his  teeth  and  followed  the  fellow  up 
once  more.  The  athlete  put  his  hands  behind  his  back 
and  stood  quite  still,  without  guarding. 

Packard  struck  at  his  head.  That  head  moved  to 
one  side  with  the  quickness  of  a  flash,  and  Packard 
missed. 

Packard  struck  at  the  man's  body.  That  body  leaped 
backward  like  a  panther,  and  it  was  untouched. 

The  medical  student  gasped.     Never  in  his  life  had 


Packard  is  Satisfied.  199 

he  seen  a  man  he  fancied  could  handle  himself  like 
that. 

Then  Defarge  came  charging  in,  and  both  struck  at 
Hawkins  together.  Hawkins  parried  the  blows  of  one 
with  his  left  hand  and  the  blows  of  the  other  with  his 
right.  Then,  with  his  left  hand,  he  gave  one  of  them 
a  thrust,  at  the  same  time  pushing  the  other  with  his 
right  foot,  and  again  he  skipped  between  them  and  was 
away. 

Packard  stopped  and  said : 

"He's  a  wizard!  Confound  him!  can't  we  corner 
him,  anyhow?" 

But  they  could  not,  though  for  five  minutes  they  did 
their  level  best.  When  five  minutes  had  elapsed  by 
the  little  clock  on  the  mantel,  the  scar-faced  athlete 
stopped,  saying: 

"The  time  is  up.     Are  you  satisfied?" 

"More  than  satisfied  in  this  line.  You  are  the 
quickest  man  I  ever  saw.  Your  foot-work  is  some- 
thing marvelous." 

Was  that  strange  contortion  of  the  scarred  face  a 
smile  caused  by  Roland  Packard's  words  ? 

"You  say  you  can  fence?"  Packard  went  on.  "Mer- 
riwell  is  the  champion  here  since  he  defeated  Defarge." 

"Defarge  was  the  champion  before  ?" 

"So  called." 

"But  Merriwell  has  a  thrust  of  his  own  that  I  am 
unable  to  avoid,"  Defarge  confessed.  "I  have  prac- 
tised it  since  till  I  am  sure  I  can  make  the  lead  quite  as 
well  as  Merriwell  himself." 


2oo  Packard  is  Satisfied. 

"Try  it  on  me,"  invited  the  stranger.  "Have  you  a 
suit  I  can  get  into?  I  see  you  have  a  set  of  foils, 
masks,  and  protectors." 

Defarge  had  several  suits.  He  brought  two  of 
them  out,  and  ten  minutes  later  the  two  young  men 
were  prepared  for  a  fencing-bout,  while  Packard  had 
retired  to  a  corner,  where  he  sat  on  a  chair  and 
watched. 

"On  guard,"  said  Hawkins. 

They  were  ready. 

"Salute." 

They  did  so. 

"Engage." 

Clash !    They  were  at  it. 

"Do  your  best,"  urged  the  strange  youth.  "Press 
me  as  hard  as  you  like.  Give  me  Frank  Merriwell's 
pet  thrust  when  you  get — ah !" 

Defarge  had  shortened  his  guard  like  a  flash, 
dropped  till  the  fingers  of  his  left  hand  rested  lightly 
on  the  floor,  with  his  body  straightened  out,  thrusting 
then  with  a  movement  that  seemed  too  swift  to  avoid. 

Hawkins  parried  with  a  circular  movement  of  his 
wrist,  moving  just  one  foot  to  one  side  as  he  did  so, 
and  the  thrust  was  avoided. 

"By  heavens!"  cried  Defarge,  as  he  came  up  with 
a  spring.  "He  caught  me  with  that  every  time." 

"And  you  came  near  catching  me,"  confessed  Haw- 
kins. "To  tell  the  truth,  if  you  had  not  warned  me 
in  advance  of  a  peculiar  movement,  I  believe  I  should 
have  been  caught." 


Packard  is  Satisfied.  201 

"See  if  you  are  as  lucky  next  time." 

They  were  at  it  again,  and  Defarge  improved  the 
very  first  opportunity  to  try  that  thrust  again.  But 
his  success  was  no  greater  than  before,  his  opponent 
seeming  to  escape  with  ease. 

Then  Hawkins  showed  that  he  could  play  with  De- 
farge, counting  on  the  French  youth  almost  at  will. 

With  an  exclamation  of  rage,  Bertrand  flung  down 
his  foil  at  last. 

"It  makes  me  too  mad  to  fence !"  he  snarled.  "Here 
I've  spent  years  at  it,  and  I  find  myself  like  a  baby  in 
your  hands !" 

"And  you  gave  Merriwell  something  of  a  go,  if 
I  have  been  informed  correctly,"  said  Packard. 

"I  kept  him  busy,"  declared  Defarge. 

"I'm  more  than  satisfied,"  asserted  the  medical  stu- 
dent. "Hawkins  is  the  most  wonderful  athlete  alive, 
and  I'll  bank  on  it !  He  can  defeat  Merriwell  at  any- 
thing!" 

"I  thought  you  would  come  to  that  conclusion,"  said 
the  French  youth.  "Will  you  try  to  help  carry  out 
the  plan  I  proposed  ?" 

"Sure  thing,"  nodded  Packard.  "You  may  count 
on  me!  At  last  I  believe  I  shall  live  to  see  the  day 
when  Merriwell's  colors  will  be  lowered  in  the  dust! 
It  will  be  the  happiest  day  of  my  life !" 


CHAPTER  XXV. 
MORGAN'S   WARNING. 

Frank  Merriwell  was  busy  writing  in  his  room.  It 
was  the  night  following  the  incidents  just  related,  and 
the  hour  was  late.  So  intent  was  he  upon  his  work 
that  he  did  not  hear  the  first  knock  on  his  door.  Afteu 
a  time  the  knock  was  repeated. 

Merry  gathered  up  the  scattered  pages  of  manu- 
script before  crossing  the  room  and  opening  the  door. 

Dade  Morgan  stood  outside. 

"Hello,  Morgan!"  exclaimed  Frank,  when  he  saw 
who  was  there.  "Will  you  come  in  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Morgan,  "if  you  do  not  object.  I  wisKt 
to  have  a  little  talk  with  you.  Did  I  disturb  you  at 
your  studies?" 

"No;  I  have  completed  studying  for  to-night." 

"Writing  letters?" 

"No.  I  was  writing  a "  Frank  checked  him- 
self. "I  was  writing  for  my  own  present  amuse- 
ment," he  declared. 

"Queer  occupation,"  commented  Morgan,  with  a 
deep  look  at  Merry.  "Fellow  seldom  writes  for  amuse- 
ment. But  you  are  different  from  most  fellows." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Merry.  "I  think  I  may  return 
the  comoliment  Take  a  chair." 


Morgan's  Warning.  203 

He  closed  the  door,  and  Morgan  accepted  the  in- 
vitation. 

"I  believe  this  is  the  first  time  I  have  ever  visited 
you  in  your  room,  Mr.  Merriwell,"  said  Dade. 

"I  believe  so." 

Morgan  was  pale.  His  training  had  seemed  to  rob 
him  of  color,  if  anything.  He  glanced  at  Frank,  and 
then  veiled  his  eyes  with  those  dark,  silky  lashes.  Only 
for  a  moment,  however,  for  he  looked  up  again  with 
an  expression  of  open  honesty. 

"Merriwell,"  he  said,  "I  know  you  have  good  reason 
to  hate  me.  My  greatest  wonder  is  that  you  permitted 
me  to  remain  in  college." 

Frank  wondered  what  Morgan  was  driving  at. 

"Do  you  wish  to  talk  about  that  ?"  he  asked  quietly. 
"I  fancied  it  might  be  unpleasant  to  you." 

"It  is;  but  of  late  I  have  been  seized  by  a  growing 
desire  to  set  myself  right  in  your  eyes.  I  doubt  if 
we  can  ever  become  friends,  but  I  do  not  want  you  to 
continue  to  think  me  a  dirty  dog.  Oh,  I  know  you 
must  have  thought  that  about  me  in  the  past !" 

"I  have,"  admitted  Merry,  with  perfect  candor.  WI 
had  a  right  to  think  so." 

"Admitted ;  but  not  of  late — not  since " 

"You  refer  to  Santenel?" 

"Yes;  not  since  his  death.  I  gave  you  a  promise 
then,  and  I  have  kept  it." 

"I  believe  you  have." 

"I  have  wondered  if  you  quite  believed  me  when  I 
told  you  of  the  power  Santenel  held  over  me.  He  was 


2O4  Morgan's  Warning. 

my  guardian,  and  he  brought  me  up  to  hate  you, 
Frank  Merriwell.  He  led  me  to  believe  that  your 
father  did  him  the  greatest  wrong  one  man  could  do 
another,  and  that  you  were  the  worthy  son  of  such  a 
father.  Before  I  ever  saw  you  I  was  led  to  hate  you 
with  all  my  heart,  and  a  Morgan  hates  intensely  when 
he  hates  at  all." 

"I  believe  you." 

"He  trained  me,  as  far  as  he  could,  to  meet  you  in 
any  manner,  and  it  was  his  fondest  hope  that  I  might 
accomplish  your  overthrow  by  fair  means  or  foul.  He 
taught  me  that,  in  this  case,  foul  means  would  be  quite 
as  honorable  as  fair.  I  came  to  believe  it,  for  I  looked 
on  you  as  one  who  would  hesitate  at  nothing  to  gain 
your  ends.  It  took  a  long  time  for  me  to  realize  that 
I  had  been  falsely  instructed.  When  I  had  learned 
that,  I  had  begun  to  hate  you  because  I  could  not  get 
the  best  of  you.  Nothing  galls  a  Morgan  worse  than 
defeat,  and  you  had  left  the  bitter  taste  of  defeat  in 
my  mouth  many  times." 

Frank  was  wondering  what  the  fellow  could  be  lead- 
ing toward. 

"The  death  of  my  uncle  left  me  utterly  in  your 
power,"  Morgan  continued,  looking  at  Merry  from 
beneath  those  dark  lashes,  something  like  a  faint,  sad 
smile  coming  to  his  face.  "I  have  the  tattered  rem- 
nants of  his  fortune  left  me,  which  will  be  enough  to 
carry  me  through  college.  I  was  forced  to  beg  for 
mercy,  and  you  agreed  to  withhold  your  hand  for  a 
time.  Since  then  there  has  been  a  truce  between  us. 


Morgan's  Warning.  205 

I  hope  that  truce  may  never  be  broken.  But  I  know 
you  have  a  particular  friend  who  hates  me  like  poison, 
and  who  has  tried  to  hurt  me  in  your  eyes.  I  mean 
Hodge.  He  has  told  you  that  I  am  still  at  work 
against  you.  I  do  not  think  you  have  accepted  his 
statements,  for  I  was  permitted  to  remain  on  the  ball- 
team." 

"Which  was  in  need  of  just  such  a  man  as  you 
are,"  said  Frank. 

"Thank  you.  It  is  kind  of  you  to  say  that.  I  don't 
know  how  you  induced  Hodge  to  catch  my  pitching, 
but  you  did  that.  And  now  I  am  anxious  to  show 
that  I  appreciate  what  you  have  done.  I  think  I  have 
detected  a  plot  against  you,  and  I  have  come  to  put 
you  on  the  scent." 

"More  plots?"  exclaimed  Merry,  with  an  air  of 
weariness.  "Morgan,  I  had  hoped  plotting  against 
me  was  at  an  end  while  I  remained  at  Yale." 

"I  fear  you  hoped  in  vain.  You  are  going  to  give 
a  supper  to  your  friends  to-morrow  night  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  I  have  discovered  enough  to  know  that  the 
plot  is  going  to  be  put  into  operation  at  that  time." 

"What's  the  game?" 

"Just  what  it  is  I  cannot  tell.  I  am  not  given  to 
listening  at  keyholes,  Merriwell;  but  having  scented 
this  thing  last  night,  I  did  a  little  listening.  I  could 
not  get  at  the  bottom  of  the  whole  matter,  but  what  I 
heard  told  me  there  was  something  wrong." 


206  Morgan's  Warning. 

"Who  owned  the  door,  Morgan?" 

"Defarge." 

"No!" 

Frank  looked  surprised. 

"It's  true." 

"But  he — why,  he  can't  do  anything!" 

"He  may  not  try,  but  the  plot  was  laid  in  his  room. 
I  watched  afterward,  and  saw  two  men  leave  that 
room." 

"Who  were  they?" 

"One  was  one  of  the  Packards." 

"Roland?" 

"I  presume  so;  but  I  can't  tell  them  apart.'* 

"It  must  have  been  Roland;  Oliver  would  not  be 
tip  to  such  work.  Roland  is  an  old  enemy  of  mine." 

"Then  I  suppose  it  was  Roland." 

"And  the  other — who  was  he  ?" 

"I  do  not  know." 

"Didn't  you  see  his  face  ?" 

"Yes ;  I  got  a  fair  look  at  it  under  a  street-lamp.  It 
startled  me,  for  it  was  the  most  hideous  face  I  have 
ever  seen.  It  looks  as  if  all  the  flesh  had  been  burned 
off  it  at  some  time." 

"Then  he  was  not  a  Yale  man  ?" 

"No." 

"Well,  I'd  like  to  know  what  sort  of  nasty  work 
Defarge  and  Packard  are  planning.  Defarge !  Why, 
the  fellow  is  sitting  over  a  slumbering  volcano!  I 
have  told  him  what  would  happen.  But  he  cannot 
take  an  active  part  against  me  if  he  wishes  " 


Morgan's  Warning.  207 

"I  don't  know  what  he  is  doing,"  said  Dade;  "but 
I'm  certain  that  a  plot  to  injure  you  was  concocted  in 
that  room  last  night.  More  than  that,  I  am  certain 
the  blow  will  be  struck  at  your  banquet  to-morrow 
evening.  I  came  here  to  warn  you,  so  that  you  may 
be  ready." 

"Thank  you,  Morgan,"  said  Frank;  "I  appreciate 
it." 

Dade  rose  to  go,  but  seemed  to  hesitate. 

"If  I  ever  am  able  to  do  anything  more" — he  spoke 
a  trifle  huskily — "you  may  be  sure  I  shall  do  it.  I'm 
going  to  try  to  even  up  for  the  past." 

Then  he  stopped,  turned  away,  turned  back,  faltered, 
held  out  his  hand. 

"Will  you  take  it,  Merriwell?"  he  asked,  flushing" 
painfully. 

Frank  grasped  it  instantly. 

"I'm  willing  to  let  the  past  die  with  Santenel,"  he 
earnestly  declared. 

"So  am  I !"  said  Dade  sincerely.  "I  shall  never  try 
to  resurrect  it,  you  may  be  sure.  Good  night,  Mr. 
Merriwell." 

"Good  night,  Morgan." 

Frank  opened  the  door,  and  Morgan  passed  out.  He 
came  near  running  into  Hodge,  who  was  coming  in. 
Bart  stood  still  and  looked  at  Dade,  who  stepped  aside 
and  passed  on,  without  a  word. 

There  was  a  strange  look  on  the  face  of  Bart  Hodge 
when  he  entered  Merriwell's  room. 


208  Morgan's  Warning. 

Frank  closed  the  door,  and  Bart  walked  over  and 
stood  with  his  back  to  the  open  fireplace. 

Merry  had  one  of  the  handsomest  rooms  in  Vander- 
bilt,  but  the  beauty  of  the  place  was  nothing  to  Bart 
then.  He  stood  with  his  hands  thrust  deep  into  his 
pockets,  a  scowl  on  his  dark  face,  staring  down  at  the 
Persian  rug  beneath  his  feet. 

Merry  knew  something  was  the  matter  with  Hodge, 
and  he  divined  what  that  something  must  be. 

"You're  up  late  to-night,  old  man,"  said  Frank. 
"And  you  look  tired.  You  should  be  in  bed.  You 
know  how  we  have  had  the  law  laid  down  to  us.  Yale 
must  win  in  all  directions  this  spring.  It  is  our  last 
with  her,  and  we  must  wind  up  and  sever  our  connec- 
tions in  a  blaze  of  glory.  Sit  down,  Bart;  you  look 
tired." 

"I'm  not,"  Hodge  growled. 

"Something  is  the  matter?" 

"Perhaps  so." 

"What?" 

"You  ought  to  know." 

Frank  did  know,  but  he  pretended  that  he  did  not 
understand. 

"Is  it  anything  about  the  nine  ?" 

"Look  here,  Merriwell,"  said  Hodge  sharply,  lifting 
his  eyes  and  looking  straight  at  Frank,  "has  it  come 
to  taking  Morgan  into  the  circle?  You  know  what 
that  man  is.  I  do  not  deny  that  he  is  a  rather  clever 
athlete,  or  that  he  can  play  ball ;  but  you  cannot  tame 
a  snake  enough  to  make  it  anything  but  a  snake  " 


Morgan's  Warning.  209 

"Even  a  snake  may  have  its  fangs  drawn." 

"But  the  disposition  to  coil  and  strike  remains  in 
the  snake.  Morgan  has  the  eyes  o'f  a  snake.  Haven't 
you  ever  seen  them  glitter?  He  knows  when  that 
snaky  look  gets  into  his  eyes,  and  he  hides  it  with  his 
drooping  eyelashes.  He  can  smile,  but  a  man  may 
smile  and  smile,  and  be  a  villain  still.  I  told  myself 
some  time  ago  that  I'd  never  mention  Morgan's  name 
to  you  like  this  again ;  but,  by  the  eternal  skies !  when 
I  find  him  coming  from  your  room  at  an  hour  close 
on  to  midnight,  it  is  too  much  for  me!  I  have  to 
open  my  mouth." 

Bart  was  almost  shaking  with  the  intensity  of  his 
feelings.  Without  permitting  Frank  to  speak,  he 
went  on : 

"I  have  tried  to  conquer  my  hatred  for  that  fellow 
for  your  sake,  Frank;  I  have  even  brought  myself  to 
catch  his  pitching,  which  I  once  swore  I'd  never  do. 
When  I  hate  a  man  I  hate  him  for  all  time.  Don't 
speak  of  Badger!  I  know  I  disliked  him,  but,  some- 
how, I  never  hated  him  in  the  way  I  hate  Morgan. 
My  hatred  for  Morgan  is  all  through  me — it  is  in 
every  part  of  me.  I  can  never  make  myself  feel  any 
other  way  toward  him.  I  did  bring  myself  to  use 
Badger  decently,  though  I  must  confess  that  I  know 
I  can  never  really  like  him.  But  he  is  as  much  dif- 
ferent from  Morgan  as  day  is  from  night.  Badger  is 
something  like  me.  Perhaps  that  was  why  I  disliked 
him  so.  I  haven't  any  use  for  a  fellow  like  me.  I've 


210  Morgan's  Warning. 

wondered  many  times  why  you  should  have  any  use 
for  such  a  chap." 

"Hodge!" 

"Oh,  I  know — I  know,  Frank!  I  appreciate  it!  I 
was  a  rascal  when  we  first  met,  but  I  was  not  a  natural- 
born  snake  like  Morgan!  I  had  become  degraded 
through  self-indulgence  and  associating  with  bad  com- 
panions. My  mother " 

"Is  one  of  the  sweetest  women  in  the  world,  God 
bless  her!"  broke  in  Frank. 

Bart  was  touched,  but  he  went  on : 

"She  tried  to  bring  me  up  right,  Merriwell.  It  was 
not  her  fault  that  I  came  so  near  going  to  the  dogs. 
She  loves  you,  Merry,  because  you  have  been  my  true 
friend.  I  have  stuck  by  you  through  thick  and  thin, 
and " 

"Bart,  you  have  been  my  truest  friend !"  exclaimed 
Frank  sincerely,  advancing  and  placing  his  hands  on 
the  shoulders  of  the  frowning,  excited  youth.  "I  have 
understood  you  when  others  have  not,  and  I  knew  the 
full  depths  of  your  friendship." 

Hodge  choked  a  little,  but  went  on  with  forced 
calmness : 

"If  that  is  true,  are  you  ready  to  sacrifice  me  now, 
Merriwell  ?  I  solemnly  swear  to  you  that  I  must  step 
out  of  the  circle  of  your  friends  when  Morgan  steps 
in.  And  I  have  heard  it  rumored  that  the  fellow  w;ll 
be  taken  into  your  flock  directly." 

"You  believed  the  rumor?" 

"Well,  I  did  not  until — until  just  now.     What  am  I 


Morgan's  Warning.  211 

to  think  when  I  find  him  coming  from  your  room  at 
this  hour,  Merriwell?  What  can  I  think?" 

"So  that  was  all  the  trouble.  Bart,  Morgan  told 
me  here  to  my  face  that  he  doubted  if  we  could  ever 
become  friends.  He  has  no  desire  to  be  taken  into 
the  flock." 

"Trickery !  Deception !  He  is  full  of  it !  He  knows 
that  is  the  best  way  to  get  in !  If  he  showed  eagerness 
to  be  admitted,  he  knows  you  might  turn  him  down." 

"I  do  not  think  so.  At  any  rate,  Bart,  I  have  no 
thought  of  taking  him  into  the  circle." 

"Frank!" 

"That  is  true,  Bart." 

"And  he  will  not  be  invited  to  your  supper  ?" 

"No." 

"I  feared  he  might  be  there.  I  could  not  sit  at  the 
same  board  with  him.  But  didn't  he  come  here  to  say 
something  about  that  ?" 

"Yes." 

"What?" 

"He  claimed  that  he  came  to  warn  me." 

"Of  what?" 

"A  fresh  plot  against  me." 

"Morgan  warning  you  of  a  plot !  The  heavens  will 
fall  next!" 

"He  thinks  he  has  scented  a  plot  to  do  something 
at  the  dinner,  but  he  does  not  know  what  that  some- 
thing is." 

"Little  good  the  warning  will  do  you  f" 

"But  I  believe  I'll  be  able  to  find  out  all  about  it, 


212  Morgan's  Warning. 

and  I'm  glad  you  have  dropped  in  just  now.  I  want 
you  to  go  with  me  to  the  room  of  Defarge." 

"Another  snake!" 

"I  believe  you  have  made  no  mistake  as  far  as  De- 
farge is  concerned." 

"Is  he  in  the  plot?" 

"According  to  Morgan,  the  plot  was  concocted  in 
the  room  of  Defarge,  who  knows  all  about  it." 

"But  I  thought  you  had  that  fellow  in  such  shape 
that  he  could  not  make  a  move  against  you?" 

"He  can  make  no  direct  move  himself,  but  he  may 
take  part  in  a  plot  against  me." 

"Who  else  is  in  it?" 

"Packard." 

"Roland?" 

"Of  course.     Oliver  is  all  right." 

"Who  else?" 

"A  man  with  a  scarred  face.  Morgan  did  not  know 
him,  but  he  said  he  obtained  a  fair  look  at  his  face, 
and  it  was  horribly  disfigured." 

"I  have  seen  that  man!"  exclaimed  Hodge.  "He 
has  visited  Defarge  more  than  once.  But  what  can 
any  one  of  those  three  do?  Not  one  of  them  will  be 
present  at  the  supper." 

"That  question  is  one  I  wish  to  answer  to  my  own 
satisfaction.  You  remember  that  I  caused  Defarge  to 
give  me  a  key  to  his  door.  It  is  here." 

Frank  displayed  the  key,  and  Bart  nodded. 

"Defarge  does  not  know  he  gave  me  this  key,"  said 
Merry.  "It  will  admit  us  to  his  room  to-night.  If 


Morgan's  Warning.  213 

he  is  asleep,  I  shall  place  him  under  the  spell  and  ques- 
tion him  without  waking  him  at  all.  He  will  never 
know  we  have  been  there,  and  we'll  learn  the  full  ex- 
tent of  the  plot.  Then  we'll  be  prepared  to  meet  it, 
and  somebody  will  receive  a  surprise.'' 

The  face  of  Bart  Hodge  was  flushed  with  excite- 
ment. 

"Merriwell,"  he  cried,  "y°u  are  a  wonder!  If  you 
can  make  one  of  the  plotters  tell  you  all  about  the 
plot,  without  knowing  he  has  told  it,  it  will  be  some- 
thing marvelous!  I  do  not  believe  such  a  thing  can 
be  done." 

Frank  smiled. 

"Are  you  ready  to  accompany  me  to  the  room  of 
Defarge?"  he  asked. 

"Sure  thing!" 

"Then  I  will  convince  you.     Come  on." 

They  went  out,  and  Merry  closed  and  locked  the 
door  of  his  room. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

FRANK    TURNS    THE    TABLES. 

Frank  Merriwell's  "athletic  spread"  at  the  New 
Haven  House  was  a  gfeat  success.  Probably  never 
before  had  there  been  given  such  a  supper  in  the  "Col- 
lege City,"  for  meat  or  fish  in  any  form  was  not  served. 
The  hearty  food  consisted  of  eggs  and  nuts  prepared  in 
the  most  tempting  manner,  so  that  it  was  sometimes 
impossible  to  tell  what  a  dish  consisted  of  before 
tasting  it. 

Fruits  of  all  sorts  abounded,  there  being  great  heaps 
of  bananas,  grapes,  oranges,  and  things  tempting  to 
the  eye  as  well  as  the  palate.  There  were  no  pies, 
cakes,  nor  pastry  of  any  sort  on  the  table.  Fresh 
strawberries  in  abundance  were  supplied.  Whole 
wheat  bread,  corn  bread,  and  rye  bread  might  be  had 
to  any  amount.  The  liquid  refreshments  consisted  of 
pure  water,  milk,  or  "coffee"  made  from  browned 
barley.  In  fact,  it  was  a  "vegetarian"  banquet,  but 
never  had  any  one  present  relished  a  feast  more  than 
they  did  that  one. 

"So  help  me,"  said  Jack  Ready  blandly,  "I  never 
supposed  vegetarian  cranks  had  so  many  good,  hearty 
things  to  live  on.  I  always  imagined  them  as  blue- 
nosed,  pinched,  and  nearly  starved  to  death.  A  man 
couldn't  starve  on  this  variety  of  stuff  if  he  tried. 


Frank  Turns  the  Tables.  215 

Xnyhow,  if  he  could,  I'd  be  willing  to  starve  on  it  a 
while." 

"Mum-rnum-me,  too,  b'gosh,"  agreed  Joe  Gamp. 
"I  ain't  never  had  such  a  sus-sus-slappin'  good  time 
eatin'  sence  I  came  down  here  to  cuc-cuc-college." 

"Out  on  a  ranch,"  said  Berlin  Carson,  "we  can't  get 
all  these  things  to  eat,  and  we  have  to  live  on  beef." 

"I  believe,"  put  in  Greg  Carker  solemnly,  "that 
along  with  the  coming  social  revolution  will  come  a 
revolution  in  eating." 

"Oh,  don't  you  hear  the  earthquakes?"  shouted  a 
dozen  fellows,  in  chorus,  and  Carker's  jaws  came  to- 
gether with  a  snap. 

"That's  too  bad !"  said  Jim  Hooker  sympathetically. 
"A  fellow  ought  to  have  a  right  to  air  his  views  occa- 
sionally." 

"But  not  to  air  his  earthquake  at  a  social  function 
like  this,"  said  Ready.  "I  have  no  use  for  earth- 
quakes at  a  dinner.  Give  me  grub,  instead !" 

"Good  Lord!"  muttered  Browning  to  his  nearest 
neighbor  on  the  right,  who  happened  to  be  Hock  Ma- 
son. "If  I  eat  any  more,  I  shall  explode,  and  still  this 
stuff  don't  seem  to  give  me  that  stuffed  feeling  I  get 
when  I  fill  up  on  roast  beef,  or  meat  of  any  kind." 

"That's  right,  sah,"  nodded  the  youth  from  South 
Carolina.  "This  supper  has  been  a  revelation  to  me, 
for  I  never  knew  before  how  many  good  things  there 
were  outside  meat  diet." 

"If  a  fellow  could  lose  flesh  on  such  feed,  it  might  be 
a  good  thing  for  me,"  put  in  Ralph  Bingham. 


216  Frank  Turns  the  Tables. 

"Where  are  the  smokes  to  follow  it?"  inquired 
Bert  Dashleigh,  looking  round.  "A  banquet  is  never 
complete  without  cigars  and  cigarettes  to  follow,  while 
the  speeches  are  being  made." 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Frank,  "I  think  we  will  dispense 
with  tobacco  to-night,  just  as  we  have  dispensed  with 
its  twin  poison,  alcohol.  If  we  do  so,  I  think  none  of 
us  will  feel  the  worse,  and  to-morrow  we'll  all  feel 
better." 

"But  I  need  a  smoke  to  help  me  digest  my  food," 
murmured  Dashleigh. 

"That  is  where  you  make  a  great  error,"  declared 
Frank  smilingly.  "Smoking  does  not  help  you  digest 
your  food.  The  soothing  influence  of  the  narcotic  on 
your  nerves  gives  you  the  impression  that  it  has  helped 
you,  but  it  is  a  false  impression,  and  it  has  done  harm 
instead  of  good.  You  all  know  I  am  not  a  crank,  for 
I  do  not  go  round  prating  about  my  beliefs  to  every- 
body I  meet  and  annoying  them.  I  know  better,  for  I 
realize  that  such  a  course  will  work  more  harm  than 
good.  Still,  when  the  right  opportunity  comes,  I  am 
never  afraid  to  speak  out  and  defend  my  convictions." 

"Do  you  believe  a  strict  vegetarian  diet  is  more  bene- 
ficial than  a  meat  diet?"  asked  Mat  Mullen. 

"I  believe  we  are  prone  to  eat  too  much  meat  in  these 
days,"  Frank  unhesitatingly  replied.  "Vegetarians 
put  up  a  strong  argument,  and  they  often  show  that 
abstainers  from  meat  have  greater  endurance  than 
meat-eaters.  Still,  I  am  not  prepared  to  say  that  man 
should  abstain  entirely  from  meat-eating.  He  has 


Frank  Turns  the  Tables.  217 

eaten  meat  since  the  days  when  primeval  man  hunted 
the  reindeer  with  his  stone  spear  and  flint-headed  ar- 
rows. Such  being  the  case,  even  though  nature  may 
not  have  intended  that  he  should  eat  meat,  man  has 
become  so  accustomed  to  a  meat  diet  that  an  abrupt 
change  to  vegetarianism  might  not  prove  entirely 
beneficial." 

"Those  are  words  of  wisdom,"  said  the  youth  with 
a  hideously  scarred  face,  who,  with  Roland  Packard  at 
his  side,  sat  at  a  distance  from  Frank. 

This  was  the  first  time  the  stranger  had  seemed  to 
address  Merry  directly.  Bart  Hodge  looked  at  Frank, 
and  he  saw  a  singular  smile  play  about  the  corners  of 
Merry's  mouth. 

"Friends,"  said  Merry,  rising,  "my  original  plan 
was  to  follow  this  feast  with  music  and  song,  but  cer- 
tain things  caused  me  to  change  my  plans.  We  have 
with  us  to-night  a  wonderful  athlete,  who  has  come 
here  for  the  sole  purpose  of  pitting  himself  against 
me  and  bringing  about  my  downfall." 

Roland  Packard  gave  a  gasp  of  astonishment,  while 
the  scar-faced  stranger  straightened  up  rigidly,  his 
eyes  fastened  on  the  cool,  handsome  youth  who  was 
speaking. 

"The  plan  was,"  Merry  went  on,  "to  take  me  by 
surprise,  to  challenge  me  across  this  table,  to  force  me 
into  tests  of  strength  and  skill,  and  to  show  before 
this  assembled  party  of  my  select  friends  that  I  am  in 
many  ways  an  impostor — that  I  am  not  the  athlete  I 
pretend  to  be.  Now,  gentlemen,  I  have  never  made 


2i8  Frank  Turns  the  Tables. 

any  false  pretensions.  I  do  not  go  about  displaying 
my  ability  for  the  sake  of  winning  applause.  I  never 
lift  heavy  weights  in  the  presence  of  great  crowds.  In 
fact,  as  far  as  possible,  I  shun  all  dime-museum  tricks. 
But  I  have  been  examined  to-day  by  an  expert,  who 
has  pronounced  me  in  perfect  form,  and,  therefore,  1 
shall  meet  this  wonderful  athlete  in  the  presence  of  you 
all,  if  he  wishes  to  force  the  test.  I  have  made  full 
preparations  for  such  a  meeting,  and  I,  like  the  athlete 
to  whom  I  refer,  have  not  eaten  heartily  at  this  meal. 
Gentlemen,  I  think  you  will  not  need  to  leave  your 
seats  to  witness  this  little  affair." 

Merry  touched  a  bell,  and  at  the  signal  a  pair  of 
folding  doors  at  one  side  of  the  room  rolled  back, 
showing  another  room,  which  had  been  cleared  of 
furniture.  On  the  floor  of  that  room  a  huge  mat  was 
spread.  Against  the  farther  wall  hung  a  paij  of  foils, 
masks,  and  a  set  of  boxing-gloves. 

There  was  a  buzz  of  excitement  around  the  table. 
Truly,  this  was  a  sensation. 

"Who  the  dickens  is  the  great  athlete  ?"  gasped  Dick 
Starbright,  staring  round. 

"Is  it  a  joke  ?"  questioned  Bert  Dashleigh. 

"Bet  he  has  a  lot  of  chorus-girls  trip  into  that  room 
and  dance  for  us !"  grunted  Browning. 

"Behold !"  said  Jack  Ready.  "No  man  knoweth  the 
things  Frank  Merriwell  may  do!  And  I'll  guarantee 
he'll  do  any  old  athlete  that  bucks  up  against  him. 
He's  the  real  stuff.  Trot  out  your  blooming  athlete !" 

Frank  now  stepped  from  the  table. 


Frank  Turns  the  Tables.  219 

"In  a  room  just  off  the  one  adjoining,"  he  said,  "are 
suits  for  wrestling,  fencing,  or  boxing.  It  will  not 
take  us  long  to  dress  to  carry  out  the  remainder  of 
this  program.  Mr.  Hawkins,  are  you  ready,  sir?" 

His  eyes  were  fastened  on  the  scar-faced  youth. 

Roland  Packard,  who  was  strangely  pale,  whispered 
in  Hawkins'  ear: 

"Remember  that  you  are  to  injure  him  some  way, 
so  that  he  will  be  unable  to  pitch  any  more.  He  has 
taken  you  by  surprise,  so  that  you  cannot  run  him 
through  the  shoulder  with  your  own  trick  rapier,  but 
you  ought  to  be  able  to  twist  that  arm  or  shoulder 
somehow  in  wrestling.  Don't  underrate  him." 

"You,  Roland  Packard,"  said  Frank,  "may  act  as 
the  second  of  your  friend." 

"Roland  Packard?"  exclaimed  several,  in  surprise. 
"Why  I  thought  he  was  Oliver !" 

Brian  Hawkins  rose  to  his  feet,  his  scarred  face 
contorted  by  a  strange  smile,  while  his  bright  eyes 
glittered. 

"To  a  certain  extent,  Mr.  Merriwell,"  he  said,  "you 
have  turned  the  tables  on  me;  but  the  final  result  will 
be  unaltered.  How  you  tumbled  to  the  game  is  some- 
thing I  cannot  understand.  As  you  have  tumbled  to 
it,  I  confess  that  I  am  here  to  defeat  you.  I  did 
mean  to  challenge  you  across  this  table,  but  you  got 
ahead  of  me.  Do  you  remember  me  ?" 

"No." 

"I  am  Brian  Hawkins,  and  I  was  at  Fardale  with 
you." 


22o  Frank  Turns  the  Tables. 

"Hawkins— good  Lord!" 

Bart  Hodge  was  on  his  feet,  staring  at  the  youth 
with  the  scarred  face. 

"Yes,  Hawkins,"  nodded  the  strange  athlete.  "You 
remember  me,  Hodge.  We  had  some  trouble  at  Far- 
dale,  and  I  believe  you  came  out  the  victor;  but  to- 
night I  will  show  you  that  you  are  no  longer  in  my 
class  by  defeating  your  friend  and  superior.  I  have 
worked  steadily  to  put  myself  in  condition  to  accom- 
plish this  design,  and  the  time  has  come." 

"Oh,  say!"  cried  Jack  Ready,  "just  wait  till  the  little 
affair  is  over !  I'll  bet  my  enormous  fortune  that  you 
sneak  away,  with  your  tail  between  your  legs,  like  a 
whipped  dog!  Yea,  verily!  So  mote  it  be,  for  it's 
bound  to  'mote'  so." 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE     FENCING-BOUT. 

There  was  a  buzzing  hum  of  excitement  round  that 
table  when  Merriwell  and  the  strange  athlete  with  the 
scarred  face  had  disappeared  into  the  dressing-room. 

All  had  seemed  to  feel  that  something  unusual  was 
to  take  place  at  this  feast,  but  not  one  of  them  seemed 
to  have  suspected  anything  like  this. 

Merriwell  had  a  way  of  doing  remarkable  things, 
but  the  termination  of  this  "athletic  dinner"  was  an 
event  to  be  long  talked  of  at  Yale. 

And  the  fact  that  Roland  Packard  had  been  per- 
mitted to  sit  at  that  table  was  also  very  surprising,  for 
Merriwell  had  permitted  it,  knowing  all  the  time  the 
fellow  was  Roland,  while  others  had  supposed  him 
Oliver,  with  the  exceptions  of  the  youth  with  the 
scarred  face  and  Bart  Hodge. 

But  a  short  time  elapsed  before  Frank  and  the 
stranger  both  appeared,  attired  in  light  suits  fit  for 
almost  any  athletic  task. 

Hodge  and  Packard  were  the  seconds,  and,  for  the 
time,  Bart  put  aside  his  intense  hatred  for  the  medical 
student  who  hated  Frank — that  is,  he  put  it  aside 
enough  to  confer  with  Packard  and  come  to  an  under- 
standing about  what  was  to  take  place. 

It  had  been  the  intention  of  the  plotters  to  make 


222  The  Fencing-bout 

the  fencing-bout  the  last  thing  to  take  place  between 
Merriwell  and  the  stranger,  and  preparations  had  been 
made  for  the  use  of  a  special  foil,  from  which  the 
button  could  be  snatched  when  the  time  came  for  Haw- 
kins to  puncture  Frank  through  the  right  shoulder; 
but  this  discovery  of  the  plot  by  Merry  upset  all  these 
plans,  and  Packard  was  compelled  to  agree  to  Bart's 
demand  that  the  fencing-bout  should  be  first  and  the 
boxing-contest  last,  with  a  wrestling-match  between. 

The  students  gathered  about  the  table  moved  their 
seats  so  that  all  could  look  into  the  adjoining  room 
with  ease. 

As  the  principals  and  their  respective  seconds  drew 
aside  for  a  moment  before  the  fencing-bout,  Packard 
said  to  Hawkins  in  a  low  tone : 

"It's  infernally  strange  that  Merriwell  should  have 
found  out  about  our  trap !" 

"That's  right,"  nodded  Hawkins,  looking  search- 
ingly  at  Roland.  "But  three  persons  knew  of  it.  Two 
of  us  are  here." 

"Good  gracious  \  You  can't  suspect  that  I  told  any- 
thing about  it,  man?" 

"Somebody  must  have  told." 

"But  I  hate  this  fellow  Merriwell.  Don't  think  I'd 
let  him  get  onto  anything  like  that!" 

"You  drink  too  much  whisky  at  times,  Mr.  Pack- 
ard." 

"But  I  have  not  since  this  plot  was  formed — I  have 
not  been  under  the  influence  of  drink  for  a  moment! 


The  Fencing-bout.  223 

I  swear  to  you  that  no  hint  of  this  has  escaped  my 
lips!" 

"Then  there  was  but  one  other  way  for  it  to  reach 
Merriwell.  Defarge  has  said  that  Merriwell  had  the 
power  to  force  him  to  anything.  He  must  have 
blabbed!" 

"That's  right  1"  grated  Packard.  "It  has  put  us  in 
a  mighty  awkward  place,  for  it  gave  Merriwell  the 
chance  to  turn  the  tables  on  us." 

"Yes ;  but  I  shall  defeat  him  at  everything,  just  the 
same,  so  we  will  be  triumphant  in  the  end." 

"I  pray  you  do!"  muttered  Roland.  "I  shall  be 
guyed  to  death  if  you  don't." 

"Don't  worry.  I'll  soon  show  you  that  I  can  count 
on  him  at  will  in  fencing;  I  will  throw  him  twice  out 
of  three  times  when  we  wrestle,  and  I'll  wind  up  by 
putting  him  out  in  the  boxing-match." 

"Do  it !"  panted  Packard,  "and  this  will  be  the  hap- 
piest day  I've  seen  in  a  year !" 

"Are  you  ready  ?"  called  the  voice  of  Hodge. 

"We  are,"  answered  Packard. 

The  foils  were  offered  for  Hawkins  to  make  his 
selection,  which  he  quickly  did.  Then  the  masks  were 
adjusted,  and  the  two  young  athletes  stood  face  to  face, 
with  Merriwell's  breathless  friends  looking  on. 

"Gentlemen,  salute!"  sounded  the  clear  voice  or 
Hodge,  to  whom  had  fallen  the  privilege  of  giving  the 
signal. 

The  contestants  responded  with  a  sweep  of  their 
foils. 


224  The  Fencing-bout. 

"On  guard!" 

The  proper  positions  were  assumed. 

"Engage!" 

Click!  The  foils  touched  and  slid  along  each  other 
lightly. 

Then  followed  such  a  display  of  light-footedness, 
agility,  and  skill  as  those  present  had  never  before 
witnessed.  In  a  very  few  seconds  it  became  evident 
to  all  that  the  stranger  with  the  scarred  face  was  won- 
derfully clever,  but,  with  all  his  cleverness,  he  failed  in 
his  first  four  attempts  to  count  on  Merriwell.  A  back- 
ward leap,  a  quick  side-step,  or  a  simple  turn  of  the 
wrist  sufficed  to  enable  Frank  to  escape  in  each  in- 
stance. 

But  in  the  meantime  Merry  had  made  two  attempts, 
and  each  had  been  balked  with  equal  ease. 

"Ye  gods !"  breathed  Jack  Ready.  "Here  is  where 
we  get  the  real  article,  and  no  discount !" 

Then,  of  a  sudden,  to  the  astonishment  of  every 
spectator,  the  stranger  tried  Frank  Merriwell's  own 
particular  and  peculiar  thrust.  With  shortened  guard, 
he  dropped  like  a  flash,  his  body  straightening  out  and 
the  fingers  of  his  left  hand  resting  on  the  floor,  while 
his  foil  flashed  straight  out  in  a  long  thrust. 

It  counted ! 

The  first  point  had  been  made  by  Hawkins. 

It  was  with  difficulty  that  Bart  Hodge  choked  back 
an  expression  of  rage  and  dismay. 

Packard  smiled.     So  did  Frank   Merriwell!     The 


The  Fencing-bout.  225 

scarred  face  of  the  strange  youth  remained  hideously 
expressionless. 

They  were  at  it  again  instantly,  but  both  seemed, 
more  on  the  alert,  more  skilful,  more  determined. 

Frank  turned  two  lightning  thrusts,  and  with  the 
second  one  he  countered  so  swiftly  that  the  eye  could 
hardly  follow  his  movement. 

And  he  Counted  fairly ! 

"Honors  are  even,"  said  the  stranger.  "Now  look 
out  for  yourself." 

He  became  a  perfect  whirlwind.  Round  and  round 
Frank  he  worked,  striving  to  find  an  opening,  but  ob- 
taining none,  for  all  of  his  great  skill.  The  work  of 
Merriwell  was  quite  as  amazing  as  that  of  Hawkins. 

Then  came  the  moment  when  Hawkins  dropped  to 
the  floor  again  and  made  that  thrust. 

Merriwell  had  seemed  waiting  for  that  very  mo- 
ment. With  a  long  leap  to  the  left  he  was  out  of  the 
way.  The  moment  his  feet  touched  the  floor  he  flung 
himself  forward.  Hawkins  was  recovering  with  an 
upward  and  backward  spring  as  Merriwell  dropped, 
using  the  same  thrust,  and  counted  beautifully. 

Frank's  friends  could  not  keep  still,  and  there  was  a 
volley  of  hand-clapping. 

"Try  Merry's  tricks,  will  you?"  muttered  Hodge, 
his  eyes  glittering.  "Well,  he'll  show  you  how  he 
meets  his  own  style  of  fighting.  How  do  you  like  it  ?" 

These  words  were  not  intended  for  the  ears  of 
Hawkins,  but  Packard  heard  them  and  cursed  in- 
wardly. 


226  The  Fencing-bout. 

Merriwell  now  had  the  advantage,  and  that  seemed 
to  anger  the  stranger  somewhat.  The  youth  with  the 
scarred  face  became  fiercer  than  ever  in  his  assaults, 
and  Frank's  skill  in  escaping  every  form  of  attack  did 
not  serve  to  soothe  his  wounded  vanity. 

Was  it  possible  that  Merriwell  was  his  equal  with 
the  foils?  The  thought  that  this  might  be  true  en- 
raged Hawkins,  who  exposed  himself  somewhat  in  his 
next  reckless  attempt  to  push  Frank. 

Merriwell  had  been  waiting  for  the  time  when  his 
antagonist  should  become  impatient  and  anxious.  In 
fact,  in  certain  ways  he  had  been  seeking  to  provoke 
Hawkins  somewhat.  Now  he  took  advantage  of  the 
fellow's  carelessness,  and,  almost  before  the  youth 
with  the  scarred  face  realized  it,  Frank  had  counted 
on  him  three  times  in  succession. 

Roland  Packard  was  pale  and  angry.  He  had  reck- 
oned on  a  great  triumph,  but  everything  was  going 
against  his  man. 

Hodge  was  beginning  to  look  intensely  satisfied,  and 
Jack  Ready  chirped  up  cheerfully : 

"I'm  afraid  Mr.  Hawkins  has  bitten  off  more  than 
he  can  masticate.  Merriwell  is  simply  making  a  holy 
show  of  the  gentleman." 

Hawkins  heard,  and  his  heart  seethed  with  bitter  dis- 
appointment. Was  it  for  this  he  had  worked  all  these 
years?  He  had  fancied  himself  perfected  in  the  arts 
required  to  defeat  Merriwell,  but  he  found  himself 
vulnerable  where  he  had  believed  he  was  the  strongest. 
For  a  moment  he  was  seized  with  a  fear  that  Merri- 


The  Fencing-bout.  227 

well  might  defeat  him,  and  in  that  moment  his  down- 
fall came.  It  seemed  that  Frank  read  his  thoughts, 
for  he  seized  the  occasion  to  make  such  an  attack  on 
Hawkins  that  the  youth  with  the  scarred  face  was 
placed  entirely  on  the  defensive. 

In  vain  Hawkins  tried  to  hold  his  own.  Merriwell 
had  several  original  and  peculiar  tricks,  all  of  which 
were  new  to  Hawkins  and  proved  effective.  Had  they 
been  tried  by  an  ordinary  fencer,  they  might  have 
failed,  but  Merriwell  made  them  count. 

The  time  of  the  bout  passed  swiftly,  but  Hawkins 
was  kept  on  the  defensive  from  the  turning-point  to 
the  end.  When  the  end  came,  Merriwell  had  scored 
three  times  the  number  of  points  of  Hawkins,  and  was 
easily  the  victor. 

Hawkins  threw  down  his  foil. 

"This  is  merely  the  beginning,"  he  said,  thougK 
there  was  a  trace  of  bitter  disappointment  in  his  voice 
and  manner.  "I  shall  defeat  you,  Merriwell,  in  the 
next  two  matches.  I  have  no  doubt  of  it." 

"La,  la!"  said  Jack  Ready.  "How  nice  a  fellow 
must  feel  when  he  owns  such  a  large  stock  of  con- 
ceit! But  let's  possess  our  souls  in  patience,  and  see 
how  he  will  feel  when  the  little  circus  is  over." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

HAWKINS    CRIES   "ENOUGH." 

If  possible,  Roland  Packard  was  more  disappointed 
in  the  result  of  the  fencing-bout  than  was  Brian  Haw- 
kins. At  least,  the  youth  of  the  scarred  face  was  able 
to  better  repress  and  hide  his  feelings.  Packard's  face 
was  white  and  drawn,  lines  of  anger  and  disappoint- 
ment marking  it  plainly. 

"It's  always  the  way !"  he  thought.  "Now  I  know 
Satan  helps  that  fellow  Merriwell !" 

Hodge  came  forward,  speaking  to  Packard. 

"Mr.  Merriwell  will  permit  you  to  name  the  style 
of  wrestling."  he  said. 

"Allow  us  a  few  moments,"  bowed  Packard,  at- 
tempting to  be  coolly  polite. 

"Certainly,"  said  Hodge,  with  something  like  a 
grim  smile  playing  about  his  mouth. 

Packard  stepped  over  to  Hawkins,  who  was  stand 
ing  with  folded  arms  at  one  side  of  the  mat.     After  a 
brief  conference  between  them,  Packard  came  back  to 
Bart,  observing: 

"Mr.  Hawkins  says  he  prefers  to  wrestle  catch-as- 
catch-can,  the  winner  to  be  the  one  who  throws  his 
antagonist  twice  out  of  three  times.  Is  that  satis- 
factory?" 

"Anything  is  satisfactory  to  Mr.  Merriwell,"  de- 


Hawkins  Cries  "Enough.''          229 

clared  Bart,  who  well  knew  that  Frank  was  particu- 
larly skilful  at  that  style  of  wrestling,  being  success- 
ful in  getting  an  advantageous  hold  on  his  opponent, 
or  having  a  way  of  turning  what  seemed  weak  holds 
to  his  advantage. 

If  Frank  was  pleased,  he  made  no  display  of  it,  and 
two  minutes  later  the  antagonists  were  crouching,  fa- 
cing each  other  at  opposite  sides  of  the  mat.  Then 
they  began  to  work  swiftly  round,  each  one  moving  to 
the  right,  after  the  style  of  boxers,  both  watching  for 
an  opening. 

The  spectators  scarcely  breathed.  It  was  a  picture 
worthy  of  the  brush  of  an  artist.  Those  youthful  ath- 
letes were  like  crouching  panthers,  their  eyes  shining, 
their  muscles  taut,  their  nerves  on  edge. 

Merriwell's  jaw  seemed  square  and  firmer  than 
usual ;  his  mouth  was  firmly  closed  and  his  lips  pressed 
together ;  his  nostrils  were  distended,  and  his  look  be- 
fore the  struggle  began  was  that  of  the  determined 
conqueror. 

The  look  on  the  scarred  face  of  Merriwell's  antago- 
nist cannot  be  described.  It  was  savage  and  terrible 
enough  to  daunt  a  timid  person. 

Of  a  sudden,  with  one  great  spring  at  each  other, 
they  closed. 

"Fair  hold  and  no  advantage!"  cried  Jack  Ready, 
as  he  saw  they  had  closed  evenly,  chest  to  chest,  each 
man  having  his  chin  over  his  opponent's  right  shoul- 
der, while  there  was  no  advantage  of  either  one  having 
a  low  hold  with  both  arms. 


230  Hawkins  Cries  "Enough." 

Such  a  hold  as  this  is  seldom  obtained  in  the  catch- 
as-catch-can  style  of  wrestling,  and  it  seemed  to  indi- 
cate that  both  men  were  alert  and  skilful,  neither 
having  permitted  the  other  the  slightest  advantage. 

Then  came  the  furious  and  skilful  struggle  whicr. 
set  the  heart  of  every  witness  to  thumping  madly. 
The  play  of  their  magnificent  muscles  could  be  seen 
beneath  their  athletic  suits.  So  swift  were  some  of 
the  movements  of  the  men  that  the  spectators  did  not 
catch  the  significance  of  every  attempt  made.  From 
one  end  of  the  mat  to  the  other  they  went,  straining, 
twisting,  writhing.  And  then 

"There  goes  Merriwell !" 

Hawkins  had  succeeded  at  last  in  back-heeling 
Frank,  who  went  down.  The  athlete  of  the  scarred 
face  flung  his  full  weight  onto  Merry,  thinking  to 
crush  him  to  the  floor,  for  the  shoulders  of  the  loser 
must  strike  the  floor  flatly  and  fairly. 

How  did  it  happen?  When  it  was  all  over  there 
was  not  a  man  among  the  witnesses  who  could  tell 
just  how  Merriwell  did  it,  but,  somehow,  as  he  was 
falling,  he  turned  aside  with  a  twisting  movement,  anc; 
both  men  struck  on  their  sides. 

Their  holds  had  been  broken,  but,  like  a  flash,  Haw- 
kins'  arms  closed  round  Merry,  whom  he  attempted  to 
turn  upon  his  back. 

The  strange  athlete  had  the  best  hold,  but  Frank 
resisted  with  all  his  strength.  However,  he  could 
not  keep  Hawkins  from  turning  him. 

Then  Merriwell's  body  made  a  "bridge."    That  is, 


Hawkins  Cries  "Enough."          231 

his  heels  were  on  the  floor,  and  also  the  badk  of  his 
head,  but  from  his  heels  to  his  head  not  a  part  of  his 
body  touched  the  mat.  Hawkins  would  not  be  the  vic- 
:or  till  he  had  forced  Merry's  shoulders  down  upon 
che  mat. 

Still  holding  Frank  in  that  position  with  a  "lock- 
hold,"  the  youth  of  the  scarred  face  lifted  his  own 
body  and  flung  its  full  weight  upon  Merry's  chest. 

"Ah !"  cried  the  witnesses. 

But  not  a  particle  did  Merry's  body  give !  It  seemed 
rigid  as  a  bent  hoop  of  so  much  iron ! 

Again  Hawkins  lifted  himself  and  flung  himself 
down  upon  that  arched  chest,  but  with  a  like  result. 

Four  times  did  Hawkins  repeat  this  desperate  at- 
tempt to  crush  the  shoulders  of  the  Yale  man  to  the 
mat,  and  still  there  was  not  a  sign  that  he  had  made 
any  impression  on  that  rigid  form. 

But,  in  his  desperation,  Hawkins  relaxed  his  vigi- 
lance somewhat.  There  was  a  sudden  writhing,  turn- 
ing movement.  Hawkins'  hold  was  broken,  and 
Merry  had  turned  and  partly  risen,  getting  a  grip  on 
his  opponent. 

Frank's  movements  were  swift  and  sure,  and  he  lit- 
erally flung  Hawkins  across  his  back,  the  heels  of  the 
scar-faced  youth  seeming  to  whistle  through  the  air 
overhead  and  coming  down  with  a  terrible  thump 
upon  the  floor. 

The  shock  was  so  great  that  Hawkins  had  no  time 
to  recover  and  "bridge"  before  Merry  had  driven  his 
shoulders  flat  on  the  mat. 


232  Hawkins  Cries  "Enough." 

A  great  shout  went  up,  for  Merriwell  had  thus 
snatched  victory  from  defeat  and  won  the  first  fall. 

"La,  la!"  said  Jack  Ready,  as  the  sound  subsided. 
"Wasn't  it  just  perfectly  lovely?" 

Frank  rose  to  his  feet,  and  Hawkins  got  up  slowly. 
Both  were  breathing  heavily,  for  the  exertion  had  been 
terrific. 

Frank  showed  no  elation  as  he  walked  over  to  his 
side  of  the  mat,  but,  despite  his  efforts  to  appear  other- 
wise, Hawkins  could  not  conceal  his  bitter  disap- 
pointment. 

Roland  Packard  tried  to  speak  to  the  youth  of  the 
scarred  face,  but  his  lips  were  dry  and  parched,  and 
no  words  came  at  his  command. 

"You  did  it!"  said  Hodge,  in  a  low  tone,  looking 
into  Merry's  flushed  and  dripping  face. 

"Yes;  but  he's  the  worst  customer  I  ever  tackled," 
confessed  Frank.  "I  thought  he  had  me  once." 

"I,  too,  was  afraid  he  had  you,"  acknowledged 
Hodge.  "He  is  a  great  wrestler.  And  to  think  that 
he  is  Brian  Hawkins,  of  Fardale !" 

"He  has  wonderful  strength  and  skill,"  said  Frank. 
"His  muscles  feel  like  iron  as  they  strain  and  play." 

"Don't  let  him  throw  you  once!"  begged  Bart.  "If 
you  down  him  the  next  time,  that  settles  the  wrestling- 
match." 

After  a  few  minutes  of  rest  the  wrestlers  faced  each 
other  once  more.  Fire  seemed  burning  deep  in  the 
eyes  of  the  scar-faced  youth.  Round  and  round  they 
circled,  ready,  crouching,  watching. 


Hawkins  Cries  "Enough."         233 

Then  they  closed!  But  Merriwell  was  the  swifter, 
catching  the  other's  right  wrist  with  his  left  hand  and 
thrusting  his  right  hand  under  Hawkins'  left  arm, 
getting  a  hold  on  his  neck. 

"The  half-nelson !"  cried  several  of  the  witnesses. 

It  was,  in  truth,  the  famous  hold  of  Olsen,  the  great 
wrestler,  and  Hawkins  was  in  a  dangerous  position. 

Merriwell  quickly  released  the  fellow's  right  wrist, 
grasped  him  round  the  waist,  following  with  the  Cor- 
nish "heave,"  which  landed  the  scar-faced  athlete  on 
his  back  in  a  twinkling. 

And  Merriwell  came  down  upon  his  chest  with  force 
enough  to  drive  the  fellow's  shoulders  hardly  and 
firmly  down  upon  the  mat. 

Frank  had  not  been  thrown  at  all,  and  he  had  won 
two  throws  in  succession,  which  made  him  the  victor 
in  the  wrestling-match. 

Roland  Packard  would  have  given  almost  any 
amount  of  money  had  he  been  somewhere  else  just 
then.  The  triumphant  shouts  of  the  excited  and  de- 
lighted witnesses  were  most  hateful  in  his  ears. 

This  was  not  what  Roland  had  come  there  to  wit- 
ness, and  it  was  something  he  had  not  anticipated 
seeing.  His  mouth  tasted  bitter,  and  everything 
seemed  to  swim  around  him.  He  actually  gasped  for 
ir. 

Hawkins  got  up  slowly,  as  if  he  could  not  quite 
realize  that  the  wrestling-match  was  over  and  he  had 
been  defeated.  He  looked  at  Merriwell  in  a  strange, 
dazed  manner. 


234  Hawkins  Cries  ''Enough." 

"How  did  he  do  it?"  were  the  words  he  whispered 
to  himself.  "Is  this  a  dream  ?" 

But  it  was  stern  reality.  The  hour  of  triumph  for 
which  Hawkins  had  toiled  many  years  in  building  up 
his  body  was  swiftly  turning  to  an  hour  of  galling 
defeat. 

Hawkins  walked  over  to  his  side  of  the  mat,  his  ap- 
pearance being  that  of  a  man  whose  every  hope  is  shat- 
tered. 

"He's  defeated  at  everything!"  muttered  Packard, 
when  he  saw  that  look  of  dejection.  "For  Heaven's 
sake,  brace  upf  Don't  let  his  gang  see  you  looking 
like  this!" 

"Wasted  years!"  muttered  Hawkins  thickly.  "I 
can  never  conquer  him  unless  I  do  now,  for  I  have 
reached  the  highest  point  attainable." 

"Then  go  in  and  knock  his  head  off  in  the  boxing- 
match!"  panted  the  medical  student.  "That  will  be 
sufficient  to  give  you  satisfaction.  If  you  defeat  him 
at  anything,  his  friends  will  die  with  shame,  and  it 
will  break  his  heart." 

"A  heart  like  his  is  not  easily  broken.  I'll  guaran- 
tee that  he  can  take  defeat  without  a  murmur." 

"Well,  test  him — see  if  he  can !  You  are  not  done 
up  yet!  He  was  lucky  in  getting  that  half-nelson  on 
you.  It  was  pure  luck,  and  nothing  else." 

"You  are  right,  and  yet — I  should  not  have  let  him 
get  it!  I  was  trying  for  the  same  hold  on  him." 

"That  was  how  you  happened  to  be  thrown  off  your 
guard.  You  were  thinking  of  the  hold  vou  wanted 


Hawkins  Cries  "Enough."          235 

more  than  of  preventing  him  from  getting  the  one  he 
was  after." 

"That's  true." 

"If  you  were  to  wrestle  with  him  again,  you  could 
defeat  him.  If  you  beat  him  at  one  of  the  three  con- 
tests, you  will  have  an  opportunity  to  challenge  him  for 
another  trial  at  everything.  Your  only  hope  now 
is  to  do  him  up  in  the  boxing-match." 

Packard's  words  gave  Hawkins  hope,  and  the  fel- 
low swiftly  braced  up. 

After  a  short  rest,  preparations  were  made  for  the 
final  encounter.  Hawkins  was  permitted  to  select  his 
gloves.  By  mutual  understanding,  it  was  decided  that 
the  rules  governing  amateur  glove-contests  should  be 
obeyed,  and  there  should  be  none  of  the  French  method 
of  "boxing  with  the  feet." 

They  advanced  and  stood  face  to  face.  Their  hands 
touched,  and  then  they  were  on  guard,  sparring  for 
an  opening. 

Again  Hawkins  was  at  his  best,  for  he  realized  tjiat 
his  only  hope  for  another  trial  with  Frank  lay  in  the 
success  of  this  encounter. 

Round  to  the  right  both  men  worked,  sparring 
gently.  Then  they  closed  a  little,  and  the  work  be- 
came swifter  and  more  exciting.  Merry  feinted  and 
sought  an  opening,  but  Hawkins  guarded  cleverly. 
Then  the  scar-faced  youth  came  in  like  a  flash,  making 
a  deceptive  move  with  his  right  and  getting  in  a  body- 
blow  with  his  left.  He  danced  away  before  Frank 


236  Hawkins  Cries  "Enough." 

could  counter,  and  the  first  point  belonged  to  Haw- 
kins. 

Packard  breathed  again.  But  his  satisfaction  was 
short,  for  Merry  followed  Hawkins  closely,  giving  him 
no  time  to  recover.  The  work  became  swifter  and 
more  savage,  and  Hawkins  struck,  reaching  Frank's 
cheek  lightly. 

That  blow  was  disastrous  to  the  scar-faced  youth, 
however,  for  Merriwell  countered  with  such  terrible 
force  that  Hawkins  was  knocked  prostrate  on  the 
mat. 

"First  down  for  Merriwell!"  laughed  Jack  Ready, 
"Now  we  are  getting  right  down  to  business !" 

"You've  reached  him  twice  to  his  once,  Hawkins!" 
cried  Packard,  his  excitement  making  it  impossible 
for  him  to  keep  still.  "That  shows  you  can  do  the 
trick.  Up  and  at  him!" 

Already  Hawkins  was  up,  and  quickly  he  went  at 
Frank.  Then  the  spectators  saw  some  work  that 
thrilled  them.  The  play  of  fists  was  astonishingly 
swift,  while  those  two  young  athletes  leaped  and 
danced  about  each  other.  Now  they  closed  in,  now 
one  retreated,  now  the  other  fell  back ;  but  never  was 
there  a  moment  of  rest  until  one  of  them  found  the 
opening  he  sought  and  again  a  heavy  blow  was  struck. 

Again  it  was  Hawkins  who  dropped,  but  he  came 
up  like  a  flash,  his  scarred  face  contorted  into  an  al- 
most fiendish  expression.  The  rage  of  the  fighter  was 
on  him  now,  and  he  longed  to  tear  Merriweil  into 
strips. 


Hawkins  Cries  "Enough."         237 

"My,  my!"  said  Jack  Ready.  "This  is  perfectly 
awful!" 

But  he  was  hugging  himself  and  grinning  with  a 
look  of  intense  delight. 

"On,  on!"  panted  Packard.  "At  him  again,  Haw- 
kins! He  can't  stand  before  that  long!" 

But  Frank  Merriwell  remained  as  calm  as  ever, 
though  he  was  able  to  move  with  the  swiftness  of  a 
flash  of  light.  His  powerful  arms  gave  play  to  his 
gloved  hands,  which  seemed  everywhere  in  the  way 
of  his  opponent. 

Hawkins  was  determined,  and  he  forced  the  fight- 
ing. He  wondered  if  he  could  not  wear  Merriwell  out, 
but  he  was  wearing  himself  out.  He  fancied  that  his 
own  strength  was  greater  than  that  of  Merriwell,  but 
the  demands  he  was  making  on  it  were  too  great. 

Frank  knew  the  time  must  come  when  Hawkins 
would  slacken  that  swift  pace,  and  he  was  waiting  for 
that  time.  With  everything  else  he  had  learned,  the 
youth  had  not  learned  to  husband  his  strength  and 
make  the  very  most  of  it  in  such  an  encounter  as  this. 

Merriwell  possessed  a  clear  brain  and  good  judg- 
ment under  all  circumstances,  and  a  finely  developed 
and  well-balanced  mind  is  a  requisite  of  him  who 
would  be  successful  as  an  athlete,  the  same  as  of  the 
man  who  would  succeed  at  all  things.  The  athlete 
who  possesses  the  splendid  body  and  the  undeveloped 
mind  is  just  as  much  deformed  as  the  hunchback  who 
has  a  splendid  education. 

All  his  life  Merriwell  had  used  his  brains  in  what- 


238  Hawkins  Cries  "Enough." 

ever  he  undertook.  This,  to  a  large  extent,  was  the 
secret  of  his  phenomenal  success.  So,  now  that  he  was 
battling  with  this  man  who  had  vowed  to  defeat  him, 
and  who  had  spent  years  training  for  that  purpose, 
Frank  used  his  brain  and  led  the  other  to  exhaust  him- 
self. When  Hawkins  showed  a  sign  of  slacking  up, 
Frank  pretended  to  give  an  opening  that  lured  him 
on  again  and  kept  him  straining  for  victory. 

At  last  the  time  came  when  Merry  believed  Haw- 
kins had  reached  the  limit  and  was  weakening.  Then, 
when  the  man  tried  to  rest,  Frank  pressed  him  in 
turn,  giving  him  no  chance. 

Now  Merriwell  became  a  perfect  whirlwind.  He 
was  on  all  sides  of  Hawkins,  who  could  only  remain 
on  the  defensive.  And  at  length  the  guard  of  the 
scar-faced  youth  was  beaten  down,  and  Merry 
stretched  him  for  the  third  time  upon  the  floor. 

"It  is  becoming  still  more  awful!"  gasped  Jack 
'Ready,  grinning  like  a  monkey. 

Hawkins  sprang  up,  but  barely  was  he  on  his  feet 
when  Frank  knocked  him  flat  again. 

Five  times  was  this  repeated,  Merriwell  giving  the 
other  no  chance  to  recover  and  get  ready  for  defense. 

With  the  final  fall,  Hawkins  lay  panting  on  the 
mat.  After  a  moment  he  sat  up  slowly,  all  the  confi- 
dence and  conceit  having  departed  from  him. 

"It's  no  use,"  he  said,  tearing  off  the  gloves  and 
flinging  them  aside.  "I  give  up!" 

Instantly  Frank  had  flung  off  his  cloves  and  offered 


Hawkins  Cries  "Enough."          239 

Hawkins  his  hand.  That  hand  was  taken,  and  Merry 
assisted  the  other  to  his  feet,  saying : 

"You  gave  me  a  stiff  go  at  everything,  old  man! 
You  are  a  wonder,  and  that's  all  right!  One  time  I 
thought " 

"Never  mind  what  you  thought,"  said  Hawkins.  "I 
confess  now  that  you  are  my  superior.  I  may  as  well 
own  up  honestly,  for  everybody  here  would  know  it, 
whether  I  said  so  or  not." 

"But  you  are  a  good  one,  Hawkie,  old  fel!"  chirped 
Jack  Ready.  "Still,  you  were  up  against  the  real 
thing.  Fellows,  three  yoops  for  Frank  Merriwell !" 

"Stop!"  cried  Merry  quickly.  "You  are  all  my 
friends  here,  and  I  would  not  have  you  rejoice  openly 
over  the  defeat  of  another.  I  propose  three  cheers 
for  Brian  Hawkins." 

The  cheers  were  given  at  once  and  most  heartily. 

"As  for  Roland  Packard,"  said  Merry,  looking 
round.  "He " 

But  Packard  had  found  an  opportunity  to  slip  away 
without  being  observed,  and  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

ON     NEUTRAL     GROUND. 

The  sensational  climax  of  Merriwell's  dinner  was 
the  talk  of  the  college  for  many  days,  and  it  seemed 
now  that  Frank's  enemies  must  admit  that  they  had 
met  their  Waterloo. 

Roland  Packard  was  bitter  in  his  resentment  toward 
Defarge  for  having  lured  him  into  a  plot  that  had  been 
so  completely  turned  against  him. 

Hawkins,  deeply  humiliated  by  his  defeat  and  the 
generous  manner  in  which  Frank  had  treated  him, 
had  disappeared  promptly  from  New  Haven,  leaving 
the  two  chief  conspirators  to  bear  the  burden  of  their 
signal  failure. 

But  Frank  was  not  vindictive,  and,  satisfied  with 
the  result  as  it  had  worked  out,  he  discouraged  any 
further  reference  to  the  matter  among  his  friends. 
Merriwell  was  ever  generous  to  a  defeated  enemy,  and 
it  was  particularly  gratifying  to  him  to  think  that,  of 
the  long  list  of  men  who  had  arrayed  themselves 
against  him,  because  of  a  spirit  of  jealousy,  so  few 
now  remained  his  foes.  It  was  with  this  warm  feel- 
ing in  his  heart  that  he  looked  now  with  a  smile  of 
pleasure  at  the  gathering  of  his  friends  in  his  room. 

Frank  Merriwell's  room  was  the  neutral  ground  on 
which — or  in  which — all  classes  and  conditions  of 


On  Neutral  Ground.  241 

Yale  men  met.  The  air  of  that  room,  perhaps  one  of 
the  finest  rooms  in  splendid  Vanderbilt,  was  thor- 
oughly democratic.  There  the  man  with  money,  or 
with  ancestry,  cut  no  better  figure  than  any  other  man, 
unless  he  had  done  something.  To  be  a  notable  in 
Merriwell's  room,  the  student  must  have  accomplished 
something  worthy  of  his  efforts.  Of  course,  the  "good 
fellow"  was  not  barred,  but  he  could  not  hope  to  be  a 
central  figure  merely  because  he  was  a  good  fellow. 

The  Merriwell  spirit  was  "a  do-something  spirit," 
and  it  was  strangely  infectious,  for  all  who  associated 
with  him  regularly  soon  acquired  the  habit  of  doingf 
things.  Even  big,  lazy  Browning  awoke  at  times  and 
astonished  everybody  by  the  accomplishment  of  some 
marvel.  Hodge  was  a  perfect  engine  of  energy,  al- 
though at  times  he  became  liable  to  break  loose  and 
run  wild,  like  an  untamed  mustang.  Jack  Ready,  the 
eccentric  sophomore,  was  as  restless  and  full  of  ginger 
as  a  young  colt,  or  a  half-grown  kitten. 

Berlin  Carson,  the  Westerner,  possessed  all  the 
breadth  and  sweep  of  the  cattle-range  and  the  plains, 
and  he  was  fast  making  himself  notable  since  coming1 
"under  Merry's  wing."  Hock  Mason,  the  man  from 
South  Carolina,  had  once  perverted  his  energy  and 
been  reckoned  a  bully,  but  after  the  days  of  his  refor- 
mation he  used  his  energy  in  the  right  direction,  and 
accomplished  things  far  more  worthy  than  beating  an 
enemy. 

Joe  Gamp,  right  down  from  New  Hampshire,  long, 
lank,  awkward,  hesitating  in  speech,  had  shown  that 


242  On  Neutral  Ground. 

he  had  sterling  qualities  and  could  fill  an  emergency 
on  the  ball-field  or  in  the  classroom.  Greg  Carker, 
the  socialistic  young  millionaire,  whose  head  continu- 
ally buzzed  with  schemes  for  the  elevation  of  the 
masses  and  the  leveling  of  the  aristocracy,  could  for- 
get his  schemes  at  times,  could  cease  to  rant  about  "the 
coming  earthquake,"  and  could  do  things  worthy  of  a 
young  twentieth  century  Yale  man. 

Jim  Hooker,  who  had  been  rescued  from  ostracism 
by  Merriwell,  and  given  a  chance  to  hold  his  head  up 
before  all  men,  showed  that  he  possessed  manly  quali- 
ties and  would  not  hesitate  in  the  face  of  necessity. 
Starbright,  the  young  freshman  giant  and  wonder,  had 
been  brought  to  the  fore  as  Merriwell's  protege,  and 
no  man  could  say  he  had  not  proved  himself  worthy. 

But  only  Starbright  and  Merriwell  knew  how 
worthy  he  had  been  as  a  friend,  for  it  was  the  big, 
yellow-haired  man  from  Andover  who  opened  Frank's 
eyes  to  the  fact  that  Inza  Burrage  had  never  changed 
in  her  devotion  since  the  old  days  at  far-off  Fardale. 
Not  only  that,  but  Dick  had  caused  Merry  to  look  in- 
ward and  discover  that  his  heart,  also,  remained  un- 
changed, and  that  Inza  was  dear  to  him  as  in  the  days 
of  his  boyhood.  And  then  Dick  stepped  aside,  making 
the  greatest  sacrifice  of  his  life — all  for  Merry !  What 
nobler  friend  could  Frank  have?  Truly,  Starbright 
had  done  something  to  win  for  himself  the  seat  of 
highest  honor  amid  that  group  of  true-blue  Merriwell 
men. 

And  then  there  was  Dashleigh — he  could  do  some*. 


On  Neutral  Ground.  243 

thing.  He  could  play  the  mandolin  and  sing  divinely. 
He  had  been  playing  just  now,  and  he  lightly 
strummed  the  strings  as  the  gathered  students  fell  to 
chatting  and  joking. 

"Dashleigh,"  said  Jack  Ready,  posing  with  assumed 
grace  before  the  freshman,  "your  playing  is  remark- 
able for  its  simplicity.  Why  shouldn't  it  be  ?  It  is  per- 
fectly characteristic  of  you." 

"You're  a  critic  of  music,  I  believe!"  retorted  Bert 
scornfully. 

"Why  shouldn't  I  be?"  came  solemnly  from  the 
queer  sophomore.  "I  have  traveled  a  great  deal  with 
a  band." 

"You  have?" 

"Yes,  I  have  a  habit  of  wearing  a  band  round  my 
hat.  Besides  that,  I  have  a  lovely  drum  in  my  ear. 
Such  advantages  as  those  have  given  me  the  right  to 
be  critical  in  musical  matters." 

"I  know  a  better  critic  than  you  who  is  deaf  and 
dumb,"  declared  the  freshman. 

"Poor  fellow !"  sighed  Jack.     "Deaf  and  dumb  ?" 

"Yes." 

"What  an  unspeakable  affliction !" 

.  Dashleigh  started  to  say  something,  and  then  flour- 
ished his  mandolin  at  Ready,  as  if  to  smite  him.  But 
the  queer  fellow  waltzed  away. 

"Say,  fellows !"  he  cried,  "I  was  down  to  Traeger's, 
with  Ned  Donovan  and  his  friends,  last  night,  and  we 
had  a  corking  good  time." 


244  On  Neutral  Ground. 

"By  the  bottles  you  had  around  you  when  I  dropped 
in  there  last  evening,  I  fancied  you  were  having  an 
uncorking  good  time,"  observed  Berlin  Carson. 

"Now,  that's  not  bad  for  a  tenderfoot  from  the  wild 
and  woolly,"  nodded  Jack,  regarding  Carson  approv- 
ingly. "My  boy,  you  are  coming.  Why,  gentlemen, 
when  he  struck  New  Haven  he  was  a  walking  arsenal ! 
He  carried  a  gun  on  each  hip,  three  bowie-knives  in  his 
belt,  two  more  in  his  boots,  and  had  derringers  in  his 
sleeves.  The  first  night  at  Old  Lady  Harrington's 
retreat  for  freshmen  he  went  to  bed  with  his  spurs  on. 
Just  forgot  to  unshackle  them  from  his  boots,  you 
know.  Of  course,  Mrs.  Harrington  made  a  gentle 
kick  in  the  morning,  when  she  found  his  spur-tracks 
in  her  sheets,  and  I  understand  he  had  to  settle  for 
the  sheets.  That  taught  him  a  lesson.  After  that  he 
remembered  to  take  his  spurs  off  his  boots  before 
rolling  in.  Oh,  there's  nothing  like  experience  as  a 
teacher.  I  have  heard  that  he  sometimes  removes  his 
boots  on  going  to  bed  now." 

Carson  took  this  guying  good-naturedly. 

"That's  all  right,"  he  said.  "At  least,  I  don't  do  one 
trick  that  I  hear  is  customary  with  you.  Fellows,  why 
do  you  suppose  Ready  puts  his  pocketbook  under  his 
pillow  every  night  when  he  goes  to  bed?" 

"He  cuc-cuc-can't  be  afraid  of  ru-ru-robbers," 
grinned  Joe  Gamp,  "'cuc-'cuc-'cause  he  never  has 
enough  mum-money  to  tut-tempt  a  robber  who  was 
lul-lul-looking  for  the  price  of  a  drink." 

"Still  he  does  put  his  pocketbook  under  his  pillow* 


On  Neutral  Ground.  245 

I've  heard,"  declared  Berlin.  "And  for  that  very  rea- 
son he  reminds  me  of  a  thrifty  business  man." 

"How  is  that?"  asked  Boxer. 

"Why,"  said  Carson,  "he  wants  to  feel  that  he  has 
money  to  retire  on." 

Ready  threw  up  his  hands,  uttered  a  terrible  groan, 
and  fell  heavily  on  Bruce  Browning,  who  was  stretched 
on  the  couch.  He  rebounded  with  a  springing  move- 
ment, however,  and  leaped  away  in  time  to  escape  a 
kick  from  the  big  senior's  heavy  foot. 

"Please  have  your  fits  elsewhere!"  rumbled  Bruce, 
with  a  glare  at  Jack,  who  was  bowing  profoundly  and 
humbly  craving  pardon. 

"I  don't  know  where  else  I  can  find  anything  so  soft 
to  fall  on,"  declared  Ready. 

"Say,"  smiled  Bruce,  "will  you  find  a  way  to  repress 
your  idiocy  for  a  short  time  ?" 

"Idiocy !"  exclaimed  Jack,  with  an  expression  of  de- 
spair. "Did  I  hear  aright  ?  And  only  yesterday  I  had 
not  been  talking  to  him  five  minutes  before  he  called 
me  an  ass." 

"Why  the  delay?"  grunted  Browning. 

"That  reminds  me  of  something  I  said  the  last  time 
I  attended  the  theater,"  Ready  asserted.  "The  play 
was  over,  the  orchestra  was  playing  a  lively  march,  all 
the  people  were  moving  toward  the  doors.  I  looked 
up,  and  right  over  one  of  those  doors  I  saw  the  word 
'exit'  in  large  gilt  letters.  Then  I  said  something  real 
witty." 

"What  could  it  be  ?"  murmured  Dashleigh. 


246  On  Neutral  Ground. 

"I  said,  'That  lets  me  out/  "  explained  Jack.  "Ha! 
ha !  ha !  That's  what  you  call  pure,  unadulterated  wit. 
Have  a  laugh  with  me !  Ha !  ha !  Why,  I'm  budding 
into  a  second  Sydney  Smith,  and  Syd  was  the  rea" 
thing." 

"You  will  be  nipped  in  the  bud  if  you're  not  care- 
ful," said  Frank.  "Sit  down,  Jack,  and  let  up  for  a 
while.  You've  had  your  mouth  open  long  enough  to 
thoroughly  ventilate  your  system  for  an  hour,  at 
least." 

"And  there  has  been  an  awful  escape  of  gas,"  said 
Carson. 

"You've  run  your  race,"  declared  Greg  Carker,  with 
a  solemn  wave  of  his  hand.  "Stand  aside  now." 

"Is  the  earthquake  coming?"  awesomely  inquired 
Jack.  "If  so,  I'll  get  out  of  the  old  thing's  track  in  a 
hurry,  Cark." 

"Speaking  about  races,"  put  in  Bingham,  the  sopho- 
more, "I  heard  a  strange  rumor  to-day.  It  was  to  the 
effect  that  Merry  has  been  asked  by  the  freshmen 
to  give  them  a  little  coaching,  and  has  agreed  to  do  so. 
I  can't  believe  it,  for  it  seems  to  me  that  he  has  his 
hands  full  without  bothering  with  the  freshmen  crew. 
I'm  sure  it  isn't  true,  is  it,  Merriwell  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Frank  quietly,  "it  is." 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE   FRESHMAN    COXSWAIN. 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence,  and  then  Ready  was 
heard  sobbing  violently,  as  if  his  heart  were  breaking. 

"What  makes  you  feel  so  bad,  Jack?"  asked  Bing- 
ham.  "Is  it  because  we  didn't  get  Merriwell  to  coach 
our  crew  ?" 

"Not  that,  not  that!"  asserted  Jack,  pressing  his 
handkerchief  to  his  eyes  and  flopping  one  hand  in  a 
gesture  of  intense  sadness.  "I'm  so  sorry  for  him !  I 
love  him  even  as  I  love  a  nice,  juicy  steak,  and  to 
think  this  terrible  disappointment  must  be  his !  Alas ! 
alas!" 

"What  ails  you?"  cried  Dashleigh.  "Don't  get  a 
foolish  notion  into  your  head  that  the  sophs  will  beat 
us." 

"It  is  written  in  the  stars,"  solemnly  declared  Ready. 
"As  far  as  that  race  is  concerned,  you'll  not  be  in  it 
this  year." 

"We'll  have  a  walkover,"  put  in  Starbright,  who 
had  been  keeping  still  and  listening  to  the  others,  but 
who  was  aroused  now.  "Merry  says  we  have  the 
finest  freshman  crew  since  his  day  in  the  freshman 
boat." 

"Taffy,"  said  Jack.  "But  it's  a  poor  coach  that 
makes  such  talk  to  his  men." 


248  The  Freshman  Coxswain. 

"He  made  it  before  he  knew  he  was  to  coach  us." 

"Well,  then  it  is  certain  that  he  will  now  find  you 
in  a  very  sloppy  condition.  There  is  nothing  surer  to 
spoil  a  freshman  crew  than  praise.  Freshmen  fall 
easy  subjects  to  that  terrible  disease  known  as  the 
swellidus  headedus,  and  it  makes  monkeys  of  them." 

"You  don't  need  to  have  it,"  said  Starbright.  "Na- 
ture got  ahead  of  the  disease." 

"Young  man,"  said  Jack,  severely  glaring  at  Dick's 
muscular  figure,  "if  you  were  not  so  small  I'd  thrash 
you  for  that  insult !  As  it  is,  fearing  lest  I  do  you 
permanent  injury,  I  withhold  my  hand.  But  we'll  lit- 
erally bury  you  out  at  Lake  Whitney,  for  all  of  your 
new  coach." 

Starbright  laughed  heartily. 

"That's  the  greatest  joke  you've  cracked  this  eve- 
ning, Ready,"  he  cried,  in  his  hearty  way. 

"Why,  your  old  crew  is  made  up  in  a  crazy  man- 
ner!" declared  Ready,  who  was  a  little  touched  and 
dropped  his  bantering  style  for  a  time.  "You've  got  a 
coxswain  as  heavy  as  I  am — yes,  heavier  than  I  am. 
What  sort  of  crazy  notion  is  that?" 

"Don't  let  it  worry  you,"  advised  Dick. 

"It  isn't  worrying  me,  fellow.  It's  delighting  my 
soul.  If  you  are  crazy  to  pull  around  that  amount  of 
dead  weight  in  the  stern  of  your  boat,  go  ahead.  But 
I  don't  see  how  Merriwell  can  say  you  have  a  good 
crew.  I  think  he  is  overworked,  poor  fellow!  I  fear 
I  see  in  my  mind's  eye  an  asylum  for  the  insane  loom- 
ing darkly  before  him." 


The  Freshman  Coxswain.  249 

"Sh !"  said  Bingham,  with  a  cautioning  motion  to- 
ward Jack.  "Don't  alarm  him,  or  it  may  send  him  off 
at  once.  Say  something  soothing  to  him,  Ready." 

"Don't  worry,  gentlemen,"  said  Frank,  standing  up 
and  stretching  his  splendid  arms  above  his  head.  "I 
am  sure  I  was  never  in  better  condition  than  at  this 
minute,  and  I'm  glad  to  be  able  to  give  a  little  time  to 
the  freshmen.  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  give  the  time  to 
the  new  class,  just  as  I  gave  it  to  your  class  last  year, 
Ready." 

"Don't  apologize !  don't  apologize !"  cried  Jack.  "It 
isn't  necessary.  You  had  good  stuff  to  work  on  last 
year ;  but  just  look  at  it  this  year !  Oh,  Laura !  Think 
of  a  boat  being  pulled  by  such  Indians  as  Starbright, 
Dashleigh,  Morgan,  and  others  of  the  same  ilk,  with 
a  big  duffer  like  Earl  Knight  in  the  stern !  Merriwell, 
get  Knight  out  of  that  boat !  I  beg — I  implore  you 
to  do  it!  The  poor  freshmen!  My  tender  heart 
bleeds  for  them,  and  their  defeat  will  be  bad  enough 
without  making  it  worse  by  giving  them  a  man  like 
that  to  drag  around." 

"When  he  wants  your  advice  I  think  he'll  ask  for 
it!"  snapped  Dashleigh,  who  did  not  fancy  this  free- 
and-easy  style  of  Ready  with  Merriwell. 

"He  may  not  know  how  bad  he  needs  it  till  the  race 
is  over,"  said  Jack.  "Besides  that,  if  I  remember  cor- 
rectly, he  is  not  in  the  habit  of  asking  much  advice." 

"Why  are  you  not  going  to  row  this  year,  Ready?" 
asked  Carson. 

"Oh,    the   boys   wanted   to   give   the  freshmen  a 


250  The  Freshman  Coxswain. 

chance!"  said  Jack.  "I  was  urged  to  row,  but  I  said, 
'What's  the  use  to  make  it  a  dead  sure  thing  at  the 
start?'  So  they  left  me  out.  Besides,  baseball  is 
just  about  all  I  can  attend  to.  I'm  no  steam-engine, 
like  Merriwell.  He's  the  only  one  of  his  kind.  He's 
the  only  fellow  I  ever  saw  who  was  able  to  do  any- 
thing and  everything  without  ever  making  a  muff. 
But  he  can't  make  a  winning  freshman  crew  out  of  a 
lot  of  wooden  cigar-store  signs.  Nay,  nay,  sweet 
one;  'tis  impossible." 

"Tell  you  what,"  cried  Dashleigh;  "I'll  bet  you  a 
hundred  dollars  we  beat  your  old  crew !" 

"Now,  that  is  not  money  enough  to  pay  me  for  the 
trouble  of  putting  it  up.  If  you  had  said  one  thousand 
dollars,  I  might  have  considered  it." 

"You  haven't  seen  a  thousand  dollars  since  you 
looked  in  a  window  of  a  New  York  bank  during  the 
trip  of  the  ball-team,"  said  Starbright. 

"And  that's  the  only  time  you  ever  saw  so  much 
money,"  put  in  Dashleigh. 

"Base  calumny!"  declared  Jack.  "But  I  so  little 
regard  such  false  statements  that  I  will  not  even  draw 
my  purse  to  disprove  them.  But  I'll  take  that  bet  of 
yours,  if  you  will  call  it  fifty  cents,  which  I  happen  to 
have  convenient  in  my  waistcoat  pocket." 

With  a  languid  air  he  brought  forth  a  silver  half- 
dollar,  which  he  triumphantly  displayed. 

Carson  snatched  the  piece  and  looked  at  it. 

"Plugged!"  he  remarked,  as  he  passed  it  back  to 


The  Freshman  Coxswain.  251 

Jack.  "I  thought  it  could  not  be  possible  that  you  had 
all  that  good  money." 

Ready  looked  distressed. 

"Plugged?"  he  gasped,  examining  the  money. 
"Alas,  too  true !  But  I  happen  to  know  a  near-sighted 
beer-slinger.  I  shall  give  the  half  to  you,  Carson,  and 
let  you  go  round  there  and  enjoy  yourself.  The  change 
will  do  you  good." 

"I  couldn't  think  of  leaving  you  penniless,"  declared 
the  Westerner,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand. 

"They're  onto  you!"  cried  Dashleigh,  laughing. 

There  was  a  rap  at  the  door,  and  Frank  called 
"Come  in."  The  door  opened,  and  a  young  man  with 
a  splendid  figure  entered  the  room  with  some  hesi- 
tation. 

"Hello,  Knight!"  cried  Merry.  "Come  right  in. 
[You're  welcome." 

"There,"  said  Ready  to  Starbright  and  Dashleigh, 
"comes  the  handicap  that  will  make  you  look  like 
thirty  cents  in  the  little  affair  we  have  been  discussing. 
Think  of  dragging  around  a  coxswain  like  that! 
Haven't  you  a  small  man  in  your  whole  class  that  can 
steer  a  boat  ?" 

"Shut  up,  please!"  warned  Dick,  in  a  low  tone. 
"Knight  is  sensitive,  and  he'll  think  you're  making 
some  observation  about  his  face." 

For  Earl  Knight  had  a  terrible  bluish  scar  that  ran 
the  whole  length  of  his  left  cheek  from  temple  to  chin. 
Otherwise  he  was  quite  a  good-looking  fellow.  But 
that  scar  was  enough  to  attract  and  fascinate  any  one 


252          The  Freshman  Coxswain. 

who  saw  it  for  the  first  time,  and  it  caused  strangers 
to  stare  at  Knight  wherever  he  went,  so  that  in  time 
he  became  very  sensitive  about  his  misfortune. 

This  scar  had  made  Knight  very  retiring  when  he 
first  entered  college,  but  he  was  a  fine,  strong,  athletic- 
looking  fellow,  and  his  classmates  finally  drew  him  out 
and  induced  him  to  take  part  in  athletics. 

When  it  came  to  rowing,  it  was  found  that  Knight 
had  once  been  a  coxswain  on  a  high-school  crew,  or 
something  of  the  sort,  and  some  combination  of  cir- 
cumstances gave  him  the  stern  of  the  freshman  boat. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  discovery  was  made  that 
Knight  knew  his  business.  He  could  steer  a  boat,  and 
lie  could  keep  a  crew  in  trim  at  those  times  when  they 
were  not  beneath  the  eye  of  a  coach.  He  had  an  en- 
couraging way  of  calling  a  man  down  pleasantly  and 
putting  new  life  and  effort  into  him,  instead  of  get- 
ting him  mad  and  sulky,  which  is  an  art  in  itself. 

Merriwell  met  Knight  cordially,  and  soon  had  him 
feeling  somewhat  more  at  ease  in  the  midst  of  this 
strange  and  remarkable  gathering  of  students  from  all 
classes. 

Because  of  his  diffidence,  Knight  was  scarcely 
known  outside  his  own  class.  In  fact,  until  he  began 
working  with  the  freshman  crew,  not  even  Merriwell 
had  known  there  was  such  a  man  in  college. 

"Why,  he's  as  large  as  Merriwell !"  muttered  Ready, 
who  could  not  be  repressed.  "Say,  Dashleigh,  I'd  like 
to  make  that  thousand-dollar  bet  two  thousand.  You 


The  Freshman  Coxswain.          253 

can  never  win  with  a  man  like  that  in  the  stern  of  your 
old  scow.  I'll  bet  my  life  on  it !" 

"Make  it  something  of  value,"  said  Bert.  "Put  up 
that  plugged  half!" 

"Now,  look  here,"  growled  Ready;  "I'm  the  only 
chap  who  has  a  license  to  be  fresh  in  this  crowd,  so 
you  had  better  quit.  You  can't  follow  it  up  without 
getting  into  trouble.  I  have  studied  the  art  of  being 
fresh  and  remaining  alive;  but  an  ordinary  man  who 
tries  to  follow  in  my  footsteps  should  take  out  a  large 
life-insurance  and  make  his  will." 

After  a  time,  Frank  plainly  stated  that  he  would  ex- 
cuse all  who  had  not  been  specially  requested  to  re- 
main, laughing  as  he  did  so. 

"Fired  out !"  murmured  Ready  sadly.  "Methinks  B 
scent  a  secret  conclave,  and  I  wouldst  rubber,  if  I 
could.  But  I  must  hie  myself  away." 

So  they  filed  out,  bidding  Frank  good  night,  and 
not  one  took  offense  at  being  thus  plainly  told  that  they 
were  to  go.  Starbright,  Dashleigh,  and  Knight  re- 
mained. 

Some  time  later  other  members  of  the  freshman 
crew  found  their  way  to  Frank's  room,  where  they  re- 
mained for  at  least  an  hour  behind  locked  doors. 

"It's  no  use,"  declared  Ready;  "he  can't  talk  victory 
into  them." 


CHAPTER  XXXL 

THE  TEMPTER   AND   THE  TRAITOR. 

Frank  Merriwell's  energy  and  the  amount  of  work 
he  was  able  to  accomplish  astonished  every  one.  It 
seemed  that  he  must  have  his  hands  pretty  full  as  cap- 
tain of  the  ball-team,  but  he  found  time  to  coach  the 
freshmen,  who  relied  on  him  far  more  than  they  did 
on  any  one  else. 

It  had  been  predicted  that  Merriwell  would  remove 
Knight  from  the  boat  and  put  a  lighter  man  in  his 
place,  and  there  was  no  little  surprise  when  he  failed 
to  do  so. 

As  far  as  possible,  Frank's  work  with  the  freshmen 
was  carried  on  privately.  It  seemed  too  early  to  get 
out  on  the  harbor  at  night,  but  the  weather  came  on 
warm  and  delightful,  which  gave  the  four  crews  the 
oportunity  they  desired. 

The  freshmen  were  the  first  to  take  advantage  of 
a  warm  evening,  and,  under  cover  of  darkness,  they 
put  in  an  hour  of  hard  work. 

The  next  day  Orson  Arnold  withdrew  from  the 
freshman  crew,  and  Ben  Snodgrass  took  himself  out 
of  the  sophomore  eight.  Frank  Merriwell  was  re- 
sponsible for  both  resignations. 

Merry  was  a  great  character-reader,  and  somehow 
he  had  susoected  Arnold  the  first  time  he  talked  with 


The  Tempter  and  the  Traitor.       255 

the  fellow.  Arnold  was  one  who  made  a  great  pre- 
tense of  frankness  and  honesty,  and  he  was  forever 
calling  attention  to  these  traits  of  character,  which  he 
wished  people  to  suppose  he  possessed.  He  had  a  way 
of  telling  how  much  he  despised  deceit,  and  Frank 
soon  decided  that  the  fellow  was  a  bluffer  and  needed 
watching. 

Then,  without  delay,  he  had  set  Jim  Hooker  to 
watching  the  suspect.  Ordinarily,  Hooker  would  not 
have  relished  the  job,  for  he  remembered  how  he  had 
once  been  suspected  and  spied  upon,  but  he  was  ready 
to  do  anything  for  Merriwell. 

Hooker  proved  a  good  detective.  He  soon  brought 
Merriwell  information  that  made  Frank  look  both 
grim  and  regretful. 

"I  thought  it,"  said  Merry;  "but  I  hoped  I  was 
wrong." 

"They  meet  in  the  old  back  room  in  Jackson's,"  said 
Hooker.  "They  do  not  choose  to  be  seen  together,  you 
know,  for  that  would  create  comment.  Freshmen  and 
sophomores  do  not  become  chums,  especially  if  they 
belong  to  rival  class  crews." 

"Jackson  keeps  a  bad  place,"  said  Frank.  "He 
should  not  be  permitted  in  the  city.  I  believe  more 
crooked  work  has  been  planned  in  his  joint  than  in  any 
other  place  in  New  Haven,  and  I'm  sorry  to  say  that 
Yale  men  have  been  in  many  of  the  plots." 

"Jackson  knows  you?" 

Frank  flushed  a  little,  but  promptly  said: 

"Yes,  he  knows  me.     I  used  to  wander  in  there 


256        The  Tempter  and  the  Traitor. 

sometimes.  I  have  found  it  necessary  to  go  there  in 
search  of  friends,  and  I've  had  one  or  two  little  en- 
counters there.  I  once  threatened  Jackson  with  police 
investigation  if  he  did  not  refuse  to  let  certain  men 
play  cards  for  money  in  that  famous  little  back  room 
of  his.  I  had  him  on  his  knees  before  I  was  done  with 
him,  and  he's  been  very  respectful  since.  He  always 
lifts  his  hat  to  me  on  the  street,  even  though  I  may 
not  choose  to  speak." 

"Then  you  have  a  grip  on  him  ?" 

"Not  now,  I  fancy." 

"Still,  you  might  go  there  and  have  your  way  to  a 
certain  extent." 

"Perhaps  so." 

"Then  I'll  find  out  the  time,  and  you  may  see  what 
you  can  do." 

The  night  the  freshmen  took  their  men  on  the  har- 
bor, Orson  Arnold  and  Ben  Snodgrass  met  in  the  little 
back  room  at  Jackson's.  They  sneaked  into  the  place 
by  the  side  door,  taking  care  not  to  be  seen,  for  their 
days  on  their  respective  crews  would  terminate  if  they 
were  known  to  frequent  that  resort. 

Arnold  was  a  fellow  with  a  fine  pair  of  shoulders, 
coal-black  hair,  and  eyes  that  seldom  looked  any  one 
squarely  in  the  face.  That  is,  they  seldom  looked 
higher  than  the  chin  of  another.  He  had  a  way  of 
looking  at  the  chin  of  any  person  with  whom  he  was 
talking,  but  he  looked  higher  only  for  instants.  He 
was  not  a  bad-looking  chap,  and  he  considered  himself 
something  of  a  lady's  man,  and  it  was  his  ambition  to 


The  Tempter  and  the  Traitor.        257 

cut  a  figure  at  Yale.  His  ambition  was  altogether  be- 
yond his  means,  as  his  grandmother  was  sending  him 
to  college,  and  she  had  limited  him  to  an  allowance, 
having  repeatedly  warned  him  that  overstepping  that 
allowance  meant  the  termination  of  his  college-course. 

Snodgrass  had  muscular  arms  and  a  broad  back,  but 
his  chest  was  not  properly  developed.  His  shoulders 
seemed  burdened  by  too  much  muscle,  and  already  they 
were  beginning  to  roll  inward  somewhat.  He  was  a 
rowing-crank.  Since  the  day  he  entered  Yale  he  had 
done  nothing  but  row,  row,  row.  It  was  his  one  en- 
grossing ambition  to  finally  make  the  varsity.  Thus 
far  he  had  succeeded  only  in  getting  onto  the  sopho- 
more eight.  In  his  first  year  he  had  not  found  a  place 
in  the  freshman  boat. 

The  fellow  craved  attention  and  admiration,  and  he 
was  determined  that  the  sophomore  crew  should  at- 
tract attention  this  year  by  defeating  the  freshmen. 
Almost  always  the  freshmen  were  the  winners  in  the 
class  races  at  Lake  Whitney,  being  given  far  greater 
attention  than  the  sophomores;  but  this  year  Snod- 
grass had  sworn  to  himself  that  there  should  be  a 
change  about  of  the  usual  order  of  things.  If  the 
sophs  won,  attention  would  be  drawn  to  their  men, 
and  that  might  mean  that  he,  Snodgrass,  would  be  ob- 
served at  last  and  rated  for  what  he  believed  himself 
worth.  In  such  a  case,  he  would  go  onto  the  varsity 
with  a  bound. 

Now,  it  happened  that  Snodgrass  had  just  what  Ar- 
nold wanted — money.  He  spent  it  freely  on  himself, 


258        The  Tempter  and  the  Traitor. 

but  Arnold  was  the  only  man  to  whom  he  lent  it  freely. 
A  mutual  attraction  seemed  to  draw  these  fellows  to- 
gether, and  somehow  they  came  to  an  understanding. 
Snodgrass  found  Arnold  could  be  bought,  and  then 
there  were  secret  meetings  between  them. 

This  night,  having  slipped  into  that  dingy  back 
room,  with  the  green  baize  table  in  the  middle  of  the 
narrow  floor,  they  took  care  to  bolt  the  door  behind 
them.  Then  they  sat  down  at  the  table  and  Snodgrass 
pushed  the  button.  Pretty  soon  a  panel  in  the  door 
at  the  opposite  side  of  the  room  slid  open,  and  the  face 
of  one  of  the  barkeepers  appeared. 

"What's  yours,  Ors,  old  boy?"  asked  Ben. 

"A  gin  fizz,"  said  Arnold. 

"Ginger  ale  for  me,"  said  Snodgrass. 

The  slide  went  shut  with  a  little  bang. 

"Well,"  said  Snodgrass  eagerly,  "you've  got  some- 
thing to  tell  me?" 

"Sure  thing,"  nodded  Arnold.  "That's  why  I'm 
here." 

"Important?" 

"Rather." 

"Out  with  it." 

"My  throat's  too  dry  to  talk.  Wait  till  I  get  that 
fizz." 

"You  hadn't  ought  to  drink  it,  you  know.  You're 
in  training." 

"Training  be — jiggered !    What  am  I  training  for?" 

"The  regatta  at  Whitney." 

"Come  off!     You  know  I'm  training  to  help  lose 


The  Tempter  and  the  Traitor.       259 

that  race.  Why  shouldn't  I  take  a  fizz?  I'm  awful 
dry." 

"But  you'd  be  fired  off  the  crew  if  anybody  found 
out  you  were  drinking  fizzes  in  here." 

"So  I'd  be  fired  if  anybody  found  out  I  was  here 
talking  with  you.  Might  as  well  go  the  whole  hog, 
to  use  an  elegant  phrase.  So  I'm  going  to  drink,  and 
I'm  going  to  have  a  smoke." 

The  slide  went  back  and  the  barkeeper  appeared 
with  the  drinks.  Snodgrass  paid  for  them  and  placed 
them  on  the  table.  Then  the  slide  slammed  again,  and 
they  were  alone. 

"I'm  a  little  thirsty  myself,"  said  Snodgrass,  taking 
up  the  ginger  ale. 

"Let  me  get  my  face  into  that  fizz!"  exclaimed  Ar- 
nold. 

When  he  had  drained  the  glass,  he  lighted  a  ciga- 
rette, and  elevated  his  feet  to  the  top  of  the  table. 

"I'm  tired,"  he  declared.  "It  tells  on  me,  this  in- 
fernally hard  work  Merriwell  is  giving  us.  The  fellow 
seems  to  think  we're  made  of  iron — like  himself." 

"He  must  be  made  of  iron  to  do  all  the  things  he 
does,"  said  Snodgrass;  "but  I  am  not  stuck  on  him 
much,  for  I  know  he  kept  me  off  the  varsity  last 
year." 

"What  ?    Why,  you  were  a  freshman." 

"I  don't  care,"  growled  Ben,  scowling.  "I  was  a 
better  man  than  some  who  made  the  eight,  but  Merri- 
well ran  in  his  particular  friends,  just  as  he  has  run 
them  onto  the  nine  this  year.  He  had  a  pull  then." 


260       The  Tempter  and  the  Traitor. 

"Well,  he's  got  a  bigger  pull  now.  He  seems  to  be 
the  only  pebble." 

"His  advice  is  taken  in  everything,"  complained  the 
sophomore  bitterly.  "He  actually  seems  king  of  the 
sporting  field  here.  They  seem  to  regard  him  as  au- 
thority on  the  subjects  of  football,  baseball,  rowing, 
hockey,  and  everything  else.  If  he  was  like  other  fel- 
lows and  simply  made  a  specialty  of  something!  But 
he  goes  into  everything  and  leads  at  whatever  he 
tries." 

Arnold  took  out  a  pair  of  gloves  and  put  them  OIL 

"What's  that  for?"  asked  Snodgrass  curiously. 

"Precaution,"  grinned  Orson  wisely. 

"Precaution  against  what?" 

"Cig  tracks.  You  know  how  they  stain  a  fellow's 
fingers.  Well,  Merriwell  would  be  sure  to  see  the  yel- 
low. He  has  the  cursedest,  sharpest  eyes  I  ever  knew 
a  man  to  have !  Don't  seem  to  look  at  you  so  hard,  but 
he  sees  everything.  Not  a  blamed  thing  escapes  his 
notice.  If  he  saw  yellow  on  my  fingers — well,  that 
would  be  my  finish." 

"Then  look  out  if  you  want  to  square  that  debt  with 
me.  It's  a  great  chance  for  you,  Arnold.  You  must 
help  me  out  by  doing  what  I  say,  or  I  shall  have  to 
have  the  money." 

Arnold  turned  somewhat  pale. 

"Don't  threaten,  Snodgrass!"  he  exclaimed.  "You 
know  I  can't  pay  the  money  back  now.  I've  told  you 
so." 


The  Tempter  and  the  Traitor.        261 

"And  I  gave  you  a  chance  to  square  the  whole  busi- 
ness." 

"By  throwing  the  race.  I'm  a  square  chap,  Snod- 
grass,  and  it  was  gall  and  wormwood  for  rne  to  agree 
to  your  terms ;  but  you  had  me  foul,  and  what  could  I 
do  but  agree  ?" 

"Oh,  nothing,  of  course!" 

"Of  course  not!  Why,  my  old  chump  of  a  grand- 
mother would  yank  me  out  of  Yale  in  a  hurry  if  she 
found  I  had  run  into  debt  over  two  hundred.  It's  the 
first  time  in  my  life  I  ever  did  anything  dishonest,  and 
the  thought  of  it  has  driven  me  to  drink." 

Arnold  tried  to  squeeze  out  a  tear,  but  it  was  plain 
to  his  companion  that  he  was  making  a  weak  bluff. 

"Well,  if  you  stick  to  your  agreement  there  will  be 
no  need  to  worry ;  but  you  must  look  out  to  keep  your 
place  on  the  crew.  If  you  are  dropped,  the  whole 
scheme  goes  to  smash.  That's  why  I  say  be  careful 
about  your  smoking  and  drinking.  Merriwell's  keen 
eyes  will  soon  discover  it  if  you  get  a  little  out  of  con- 
dition and  keep  so." 

"Oh,  blow  Merriwell!  I'd  like  to  thump  him.  I 
wish  we  might  catch  him  alone,  Snodgrass,  and  give 
him  a  good  drubbing.  Why  can't  we  do  it?  We 
might  lay  for  him  some  night  and  take  him  in  a  dark 
place." 

"If  he  recognized  us,  we'd  be  spotted  as  his  enemies, 
and  you  know  it  isn't  healthy  to  be  the  enemy  of  Mer- 
riwell. The  Chickering  set  are  his  enemies,  and  they 
are  ostracized." 


262        The  Tempter  and  the  Traitor. 

"They  would  be  anyhow." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  They  have  rich  parents;  and 
money  counts." 

"Money  counts  less  at  Yale  than  at  any  other  col- 
lege in  the  world." 

"I  know  it's  claimed  so,  but  I  believe  it  counts  here 
just  the  same  as  elsewhere.  Still,  I  will  admit  that  I 
do  not  care  to  become  openly  rated  as  the  enemy  of 
Merriwell." 

Arnold  inhaled  the  poisonous  fumes  of  the  ciga- 
rette with  great  relish,  taking  it  deep  into  his  lungs 
and  breathing  it  out  in  a  thin  blue  cloud,  sometimes 
letting  a  little  escape  with  each  word. 

"Well,  you  haven't  told  me  what  you  were  going  to 
tell,  old  man,"  said  Snodgrass.  "What  has  Merriwell 
been  doing  to-night?" 

"Guess!" 

"I  can't." 

"That's  true ;  you  couldn't  guess !" 

"Well,  what  is  it?    You  have  me  anxious  now." 

"You  know  he  ordered  us  out  for  a  pull  to-night." 

"Yes." 

"Well,  how  do  you  suppose  he  did  the  coaching?" 

"From  another  boat." 

"Chased  us  round?" 

"Yes." 

"Not  much!" 

"How,  then?" 

"From  the  boat." 

"The  boat?" 


The  Tempter  and  the  Traitor.        263 

"Yes ;  he  took  Knight's  place  and  was  coxswain !" 

Snodgrass  whistled. 

"Well,  I  must  say  that's  a  new  idea !"  he  exclaimed. 
"What  did  Knight  do?" 

"Waited  on  a  wharf." 

"This  is  news !"  nodded  the  sophomore.  "I  wonder 
if  that  is  just  the  proper  thing?  It  strikes  me  as  being 
rather  queer,  to  say  the  least.  I  don't  think  he'd  want 
it  to  be  known." 

"Of  course  not !    We  are  to  say  nothing  about  it." 

"By  Caesar!"  exclaimed  Snodgrass,  smiting  the 
table.  "It  will  be  a  double  victory  to  defeat  the  fresh- 
men !  It  will  be  defeating  Merriwell !  How  that  will 
cut  him!  We  must  do  it  without  fail!  I  depend  on 
you,  Ors." 

"And  I  am  in  such  a  predicament  that  I  cannot  re- 
fuse. If  I  could,  you  may  be  sure,  Snodgrass,  I'd  not 
be  here  with  you  to-night,  telling  you  all  this  stuff. 
My  conscience  will  never  cease  pricking  me.  But  what 
can  a  man  in  my  place  do !" 

"Oh,  drop  it !  You  make  me  tired  with  that  holler !" 

"I  can't  help  speaking  of  it.  I  have  sold  myself  for 
a  few  paltry  dollars!  No,  no — not  that!  I  sold  my- 
self to  keep  myself  from  disgrace!  There  was  no 
other  way !  I  had  to  do  it !  It's  the  first  dishonest  act 
of  my  life." 

"You've  told  me  that  before,  I  think,"  remarked  the 
sophomore  dryly. 

"Perhaps  so.  But  I'm  broke  again,  old  man.  Let 
me  have  another  tenner.  I  must  have  it." 


264        The  Tempter  and  the  Traitor. 

"You're  getting  too  frequent.    Ors,  I  can't  do  it." 

"Can't?"  Arnold  dropped  his  feet  from  the  table 
and  flung  aside  the  cigarette. 

"No;  I  haven't  ten  with  me.    I'll  let  you  have  five.'* 

"But  I  need  ten." 

"I  tell  you  I  haven't  got  it!  See  here — that  is  all 
the  money  I  have." 

Snodgrass  displayed  the  contents  of  his  pockets,  and 
there  was  less  than  six  dollars  in  all.  He  had  known 
well  enough  that  Arnold  would  want  money  and  had 
come  prepared. 

"Well,  then,  I'll  have  to  make  that  five  do  for  the 
time  being,"  said  the  traitorous  freshman  regretfully, 
as  he  reached  over  and  cooly  took  from  the  money 
the  five  dollars  Snodgrass  had  agreed  to  let  him  have. 
"Now,  let's  have  some  more  drinks  and  get  out  of 
here," 

"You'll  have  to  pay  for  the  drinks,"  said  Snodgrass. 
"You  have  all  the  money  now." 

"But  you  have  just  about  enough  left  for  one  more 
round,"  said  the  freshman  serenely.  "Go  ahead  and 
push  the  button.  I  need  this  in  my  business.  Why 
don't — you — do " 

Arnold  stopped,  staring  suspiciously  at  the  little 
slide  in  the  door.  He  fancied  it  had  moved. 

"Snodgrass,"  he  said,  leaning  forward  and  whisper- 
ing the  words,  "I  believe  somebody  has  been  spying 
on  us!" 

The  sophomore  looked  startled. 


The  Tempter  and  the  Traitor.       265 

"What  makes  you  think  so?"  he  asked,  glancing 
nervously,  round  the  room. 

"I  think  I  saw  that  slide  in  the  door  move.  It  was 
open  on  a  crack,  so  somebody  on  the  other  side  could 
hear  what  we  were  saying." 

Snodgrass  uttered  an  oath  and  sprang  up. 

"We'll  see  about  that!"  he  muttered.  "If  some 
fellow  has  been  spying  on  us,  we'll  thump  the  stuff- 
ing out  of  him !" 

He  sprang  toward  the  door,  meaning  to  see  if  the 
slide  would  open  at  his  touch. 

Instead  of  that,  the  door  swung  open  and  Frank 
Merriwell  stepped  into  the  room! 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

FRANK   MAKES   HIS  TERMS. 

With  a  gasp  of  dismay,  Ben  Snodgrass  reeled  back, 
staring  at  the  intruder. 

Arnold  had  started  up,  his  face  white  as  parch- 
ment, while  he  shook  in  every  limb. 

"Merriwell!"  they  both  gasped. 

Frank  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

"Sit  down!"  he  said  sternly,  pointing  to  the  chairs 
by  the  table. 

Arnold  dropped  back  with  another  gasp.  Snod- 
grass seemed  to  hesitate,  and  then  he  stiffened  up,  as 
if  in  refusal. 

Frank  fixed  his  steady  eyes  on  those  of  Ben  Snod- 
grass. The  sophomore  made  a  mistake  in  glaring 
straight  back.  If  he  had  desired  to  refuse  to  obey 
Merriwell  he  should  not  have  looked  Merriwell  in  the 
eye.  It  was  not  often  any  man  looked  Frank  squarely 
in  the  eye  and  declined  to  obey  any  command  he  gave. 

"Sit  down,"  said  Merry,  more  gently  than  before. 

And  Snodgrass  suddenly  wilted,  sliding  to  the 
chair,  upon  which  he  sank. 

But  he  had  taken  his  eyes  from  those  of  Merriwell, 
and  now  he  could  speak.  He  said : 

"So  you  played  the  eavesdropper — the  great  and 
honorable  Frank  Merriwell  played  the  eavesdrooper !" 


Frank  Makes  His  Terms.  267 

"Don't  defile  the  word  honor  with  your  lips!"  said 
Merry,  without  lifting  his  voice  in  the  least,  yet  with 
such  deep  scorn  in  his  low  tone  that  Snodgrass 
shrank  before  it. 

Still  the  fellow  kept  his  eyes  from  meeting  Frank's, 
and  thus  he  was  able  to  speak. 

"You  can't  deny  it!  You  played  the  sneak  and  the 
spy!" 

Arnold  was  wondering  how  his  companion  dared 
utter  such  words  to  Merriwell.  But  the  fact  that  Snod- 
grass did  dare  seemed  to  give  Orson  back  some  of  the 
courage  that  had  been  shocked  out  of  his  body  by  the 
sudden  and  astonishing  appearance  of  the  man  about 
whom  they  had  been  talking  a  short  time  before. 

Arnold  knew  he  was  well  built;  he  knew  he  was 
rather  muscular;  he  knew  he  ought  to  be  independent 
and  fearless ;  but  it  took  a  man  with  nerve  to  be  inde- 
pendent and  fearless  in  the  presence  of  Frank  Merri- 
well after  being  caught  under  such  circumstances. 

Orson  had  never  been  thoroughly  brave,  and  smo- 
king cigarettes  had  not  added  to  his  stock  of  self-reli- 
ance. Perhaps  if  he  had  never  touched  them  he  would 
not  have  been  caught  there  in  that  room  with  Snod- 
grass giving  away  secrets  about  the  freshman  crew. 

Alcohol  and  cigarettes !  Twin  destroyers  of  all  that 
is  noble  in  human  nature!  We  shudder  sometimes  at 
the  ruin  wrought  by  alcohol,  and  we  turn  in  disgust  or 
pity  from  the  reeling  drunkard;  but  as  true  as  truth 
exists,  cigarettes  to-day  are  working  as  great  havoc 


268  Frank  Makes  His  Terms. 

among  the  boys  and  young  men  of  our  land  as  is 
alcohol ! 

All  know  that  alcohol  is  dangerous  and  a  thing  to 
be  shunned,  and  no  youth  need  become  its  victim  with- 
out realizing  just  what  is  happening. 

With  cigarettes  it  is  different.  Surely  there  can  be 
no  harm  in  smoking  one  of  the  tiny,  clean-looking 
rolls?  Why  shouldn't  a  lad  smoke  them?  All  the 
fellows  seem  to  be  smoking  them.  Oh,  yes;  some  of 
the  fellows  acknowledge  they  cannot  get  along  without 
them,  but  that  is  simply  ridiculous.  Certainly  there  is 
nothing  in  those  harmless  little  things  that  get  hold  o£ 
a  man  and  make  it  impossible  to  leave  them  off!  It's 
easy  enough  to  prove  that  by  smoking  a  few  of  them 
and  then  stopping.  Just  watch  him,  and  see  him  prove 
it  beyond  dispute.  So  he  begins  with  his  first  ciga- 
rette. 

And  the  fellow  who  smokes  travels  with  the  fast  set. 
He  frequents  the  places  they  frequent.  At  first  he 
slips  in  and  out  with  a  guilty  feeling,  hoping  he  will 
not  be  observed;  but  after  a  time  that  feeling  passes 
off  and  he  enters  boldly,  careless,  or  proud,  or  indif- 
ferent. He  is  making  rapid  strides  on  the  road.  Clear 
the  track  for  him  and  watch  his  pace!  It's  all  down- 
hill now,  and  he  is  gaining  momentum  right  along. 

The  fellow  who  smokes  must  drink  a  little,  of 
course.  Why  not  ?  The  crowd  he's  drifted  into  all  do 
it.  A  little  beer,  perhaps,  to  start  with.  Nasty  stuff, 
out  he  gulps  it  down,  keeps  his  face  straight,  and  pre- 
tends that  he's  happy.  The  second  glass  goes  down 


Frank  Makes  His  Terms.  269 

harder  than  the  first.  It  makes  him  feel  queer.  He 
laughs  at  silly  things,  and  he  smokes  one  cigarette 
after  another.  Oh,  say !  but  this  is  having  a  time  of  it ! 

When  it's  all  over  he  won't  feel  so  well.  It's  likely 
he'll  swear  over  and  over  again  never,  never  to  do  it 
again.  But  a  half-consumed  package  of  cigarettes  is 
in  his  pocket,  and  when  he  begins  to  feel  a  little  bet- 
ter, so  that  he  sits  up  and  takes  notice,  he  finds  those 
cigarettes,  and  habit  puts  one  into  his  mouth. 

When  he  realizes  at  last  that  he  is  going  the  pace, 
he  finds  he  cannot  stop.  He  says  he  will  smoke  no 
more,  but  he  hangs  to  the  partly  used  package  till  he 
has  puffed  out  the  last  little  white-robed  seducer.  If 
he  had  been  strong,  if  there  had  been  a  modicum  of  his 
strength  remaining,  he  would  have  flung  them  away. 

Arnold  had  begun  to  smoke  at  preparatory  school. 
Before  that  he  had  taken  active  part  in  manly  sports  of 
all  kinds,  and  thus  he  developed  those  magnificent 
shoulders  and  splendid  arms.  Smoking  could  ruin  his 
moral  sense  and  stop  his  advancement,  but  it  could  not 
undo  at  once  all  that  he  had  done  for  himself  before 
he  began  to  smoke. 

When  he  started  in  to  train  for  the  freshman  crew 
at  Yale  he  tried  to  put  cigarettes  aside.  There  was 
nothing  else  to  be  done.  He  seemed  to  leave  them 
off  completely,  but  he  continued  to  smoke  secretly  right 
along. 

Snodgrass  had  known  how  to  work  on  Arnold's 
weak  points.  The  sophomore  was  crafty.  He  did  not 
smoke,  and  he  did  not  drink  anything  intoxicating. 


270  Frank  Makes  His  Terms. 

Snodgrass  was  looking  out  for  Number  One.  He 
knew  a  man  who  smoked  and  drank  did  not  stand  as 
good  a  chance  of  making  the  varsity  as  one  who  did 
neither,  and  so  he  did  neither.  No  better  man  than 
Arnold  at  the  outset,  cigarettes  gave  Arnold  into  his 
power. 

"Don't  talk  to  me  about  sneaks  and  spies!"  said 
Merriwell,  with  unspeakable  scorn.  "Two  greater 
sneaks  than  you  I  have  never  had  the  pleasure  of  see- 
ing!" 

"Be  careful!"  snarled  Ben  blackly.  "I  won't  stand 
for  it!" 

"You  will  sit  still  till  I  tell  you  just  what  I  think  of 
you.  You  are  a  cur,  Snodgrass,  and  you  know  ft! 
You,  Arnold,  are  a  pitiful  traitor,  and  I'm  rather 
sorry  for  you;  but  you  have  only  yourself  to  blame 
that  you  are  in  this  rascal's  power." 

Arnold's  breast  began  to  heave.  How  could  he  save 
himself?  Was  there  a  way?  Might  he  not  break 
down  now  and  throw  himself  on  Frank's  sympathy? 
He  thought  of  that,  and  straightway  set  about  com- 
pelling the  tears  to  come  to  his  eyes.  Perhaps  the 
sight  of  tears  would  be  enough  to  melt  Merriwell. 

"I  had  to  do  it!"  he  choked.  "There  was  no  other 
way  to  save  myself." 

Snodgrass  uttered  a  curse  and  looked  at  Arnold 
with  scorn  and  contempt. 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  don't  let  Merriwell  see  you 
snivel!"  he  hissed. 


Frank  Makes  His  Terms.  271 

Then  he  smote  the  table  with  his  clenched  fist,  say- 
ing: 

"Jackson  shall  answer  to  me  for  this  trick !  He  shall 
pay  dearly  for  permitting  any  one  to  play  the  eaves- 
dropper on  me.  He  did  it,  for  no  one  could  reach 
that  door  without  his  permission." 

"I  advise  you  to  keep  your  mouth  closed  as  far  as 
Jackson  is  concerned,"  said  Merry.  "If  you  tackle 
him  and  raise  a  dust,  it  may  get  out  that  you  were 
here." 

Arnold  gasped  again.  Then  Merriwell  did  not  mean 
to  expose  them  ?  He  was  not  going  to  make  the  whole 
matter  public?  It  was  a  great  relief.  Even  Snod- 
grass  pulled  in  his  horns  somewhat. 

"It  was  a  dirty  trick !"  he  declared.  "I  didn't  think 
Jackson  would  permit  it.  If  I  were  to  tell  the  fellows 
about  it,  it  would  hurt  his  old  place." 

"But  I  know  you'll  say  nothing  about  it,  Snod- 
grass." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  it  will  be  a  dead  give-away  on  yourself." 

"You'll  give  it  away!  You'll  go  out  and  tell  your 
story.  We'll  say  you  lied  about  it,  but  that  Jackson 
let  you  in  to  that  door,  where  you  listened  without 
overhearing  anything  in  particular." 

"How  will  you  explain  your  presence  here  ?  Every 
man  of  your  crew,  and  of  the  freshmen,  is  forbidden  to 
come  here." 

"That's  right,"  muttered  Arnold. 

"Oh.  well,  one  slip "  began  Ben  weakly. 


272  Frank  Makes  His  Terms. 

"You  know  my  statement  would  be  believed." 

"Not  against  us  both." 

"I  think  so." 

"We  would  swear  you  lied." 

"And  you  know  deep  down  in  your  heart  that  I 
would  be  believed." 

"We'd  swear  you  were  trying  to  get  us  thrown  off 
our  crews  in  order  to  work  your  particular  friends 
on." 

"Think  it  over  a  little,  Snodgrass,  before  you  try  it. 
Of  course,  if  that  is  the  course  you  choose,  I  shall 
permit  you  to  have  your  own  way  about  it.  Anyhow, 
off  the  crew  you  will  come,  sir." 

"I'm  against  it!"  cried  Arnold,  resolved  to  play  into 
Frank's  hand,  though  not  quite  understanding  the 
move  to  make.  "I  do  not  fancy  having  a  smell  raised 
about  it." 

Ben  gave  him  a  look  of  scorn. 

"There  is  only  one  way  for  you  two  fellows  to  save 
yourselves,"  said  Frank. 

"That  is— how?" 

"You  must  both  withdraw  from  your  crews.  If 
you  do  that  at  once,  I'll  say  nothing  about  what  has 
happened.  If  you  do  not  withdraw  at  once,  I  shall 
expose  you.  Those  are  the  terms;  they  are  unalter- 
able. You  may  choose." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

A    NEW    COMPACT. 

They  were  forced  to  agree  to  the  terms,  though 
Snodgrass  did  so  with  such  bitterness  in  his  heart  as 
he  had  never  before  known.  Merry  saw  the  fellow 
look  at  him  with  a  glance  of  unspeakable  hatred,  and 
he  knew  Snodgrass  would  be  his  enemy  from  that  day. 

"I  know  you  are  bound  the  freshmen  shall  win," 
muttered  Ben,  "and  that's  one  reason  why  you  are  go- 
ing to  force  me  to  leave  the  sophomore  crew.  With 
me  in  the  boat  there  was  less  chance  for  your  crew 
to  come  in  ahead." 

"Conceit  is  not  lacking  in  your  make-up,  Snod- 
grass," said  Merry,  unable  to  repress  his  amusement. 
"You  seem  to  fancy  yourself  the  biggest  part  of  the 
crew." 

"You  can't  deny  that  I've  told  you  the  truth !"  hissed 
the  sophomore,  showing  his  teeth. 

"I  wouldn't  take  the  trouble  to  deny  anything  so  ri- 
diculous. Arnold,  if  he'd  let  cigarettes  and  drink 
alone,  might  be  a  better  man  than  you  to-day,  yet  he 
has  to  get  out  of  the  freshman  boat." 

"To  let  in  some  friend  of  yours." 

"I  have  two  friends  among  the  freshmen — two  par- 
ticular friends,  I  mean.  They  are  Starbright  and 
Dashleigh,  and  both  of  them  are  already  in  the  boat. 


274  A  New  Compact. 

I  demand  that  you  fellows  get  out  because  you  are 
both  crooked  and  unworthy  to  battle  for  the  honor  of 
your  classes.  That's  what  I  think  of  you." 

"I'm  not  going  to  say  what  I  think  of  you,"  mut- 
tered Ben. 

"Perhaps  it  is  just  as  well  for  you  that  you  do  not," 
came  meaningly  from  Merry's  lips.  "As  I  stood  be- 
hind that  door  listening  to  your  talk  here,  I  felt  like 
jumping  in  and  giving  you  both  the  thrashing  you  de- 
served ;  but  I  decided  not  to  put  my  hands  on  you,  and 
I  do  not  wish  to  go  back  on  that  resolution.  However, 
Snodgrass,  if  you  were  to  become  too  insulting,  I 
might  forget  myself  and  give  you  a  little  jolting." 

"You're  a  bully!" 

"Is  that  so  ?  As  a  rule,  I  believe  bullies  seek  to  have 
the  odds  in  their  favor.  I  didn't  count  on  that  when 
I  entered  here." 

"You  entered  because  Arnold  had  discovered  you 
were  behind  the  door." 

"In  a  certain  degree  that  is  true.  Yet  I  was  ready 
to  come  in  just  then,  having  heard  enough  to  put  rne 
onto  your  game.  With  Arnold  out  of  the  freshman 
boat,  there  will  be  no  chance  for  such  a  fluke  as  was 
planned.  With  you  out  of  the  sophomore  boat,  you 
will  win  no  unmerited  glory." 

Snodgrass  ground  his  teeth  in  fury.  For  the  time 
his  ambition  to  make  the  varsity  was  dished.  But, 
thank  goodness!  Merriwell  would  not  be  in  Yale  next 
year,  and  then  he  would  have  his  chance  once  more. 
With  Merriwell  away  he  would  make  the  crew — he 


A  New  Compact  275 

was  confident  of  it.  Surely  he  had  reason  enough  to 
hate  Merriwell,  for  had  not  Frank  kept  him  from 
forging-  to  the  front  ? 

But  Merry,  who  had  so  many  friends,  was  not  afraid 
of  making  an  enemy.  The  man  who  fears  to  make  an 
enemy  is  not  worthy  to  have  friends.  The  man  who 
fears  to  make  an  enemy  seldom  has  friends  who  are 
stanch  and  true. 

In  a  just  cause  Merry  had  never  failed  to  make  ene- 
mies, and  he  had  made  many  of  them  in  the  past ;  but 
about  him  there  was  a  particular  something  that  finally 
won  those  enemies  over  to  friends,  even  when  he 
seemed  careless,  or  undesirous  of  such  a  result. 

"Now,  as  you  both  understand  the  terms  on  which 
I  remain  silent  concerning  this  business,"  said  Frank, 
"I'll  bid  you  good  night.  I  shall  expect  you  to  hand 
in  your  resignations  by  noon  to-morrow." 

With  clenched  teeth,  Snodgrass  half-started,  as  if 
to  leap  at  Frank's  back,  Merry  having  turned  care- 
lessly away.  But  Frank,  without  so  much  as  turning 
his  head  to  glance  back,  said :  f 

"Don't  try  it,  Snodgrass!  I  shall  do  you  harm  if 
you  do!" 

Then  the  muscles  of  the  sophomore  relaxed,  and  he 
settled  back  on  his  chair,  glaring  till  the  door  had 
closed  behind  Frank. 

For  some  moments  the  detected  rascals  were  silent. 
Then  Arnold  ventured  to  look  at  the  chin  of  his  com- 
panion. That  chin  frightened  him. 

Snodgrass  was  a  tempest  of  fury.     He  raved  at 


276  A  New  Compact 

Arnold  and  reviled  him.  He  raved  at  himself.  Then 
he  fell  to  expressing  himself  concerning  Frank  Merri- 
well,  and  his  words  were  lurid  in  the  extreme. 

Arnold,  to  tell  the  truth,  felt  glad  to  escape  thus 
easily.  One  thing  he  dreaded  was  exposure  and  dis- 
grace, and  he  had  feared  that  was  to  follow  Merri- 
well's  discovery.  Snodgrass  seemed  to  understand  the 
relief  of  his  companion,  and  he  snarled : 

"Well,  you  can  pay  up  now,  and  pay  up  in  a  hurry  I 
I  want  my  money,  and  you'll  have  to  fork  over." 

"But  I  can't,  and  you  know  it!" 

"I've  got  your  paper,  and  your  grandmother  will 
have  to  pay." 

Arnold  was  frightened. 

"Don't  force  me  to  the  wall,  Snodgrass!"  he  im- 
plored. "She'll  take  me  out  of  college!  I  don't  be- 
lieve she'll  pay  you,  anyhow.  Give  me  time,  and  I'll 
find  a  way  to  pay  you.  You  must  give  me  time,  old 
man!" 

"Time  J  time !  time  I  You  can't  pay  if  I  do  give  you 
time,  and  you  know  it !  I  know  it !  I've  known  it  all 
along!" 

"You've  known  it?" 

"Of  course  I  have!" 

"Yet  you  let  me  have  the  money !  You  did  it  to  get 
me  in  a  trap!" 

"Well,  perhaps  I  did.  I  wanted  to  make  use  of  you. 
Now  you  are  no  earthly  use  to  me,  and  I  want  my 
money." 


A  New  Compact.  277 

"Wait,"  urged  Arnold  shakingly.  "Don't  say  I'm 
no  use  to  you.  You  can't  tell  yet." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"Are  you  going  to  give  up?  Are  you  yoing  to  let 
Merriwell  triumph  over  you?" 

"No;  by  thunder,  no!" 

"I  thought  not.  But  we've  both  got  to  obey  his 
command,  or  get  it  in  the  neck.  I'm  a  freshman,  but 
he  is  coaching  the  freshmen,  and  I  hate  him.  There- 
fore, I  don't  want  them  to  win." 

"It  would  hit  him  hard  if  they  failed !"  panted  Snod- 
grass. 

"Sure  thing,"  nodded  Arnold,  lowering  his  voice  to 
a  whisper.  "We  can't  make  any  plans  here,  old  man, 
but  I  believe  in  getting  back  at  him,  and  I'll  help  you 
do  it" 

"How  can  it  be  done  ?" 

"Don't  know  yet ;  but  we  ought  to  be  able  to  find  a 
way.  We  must  keep  the  freshmen  from  winning, 
somehow." 

The  face  of  Snodgrass  took  on  a  look  of  vindictive 
resolve. 

"That's  right !"  he  grated.  "The  freshmen  shall  not 
win  now!  It  will  hurt  Merriwell  if  they  fail!  We 
will  prevent  them,  Arnold." 

"If  I  help  you,  will  you  cancel  the  account  against 
me?" 

"In  case  we  succeed — yes." 

"Then  shake  on  it!" 

They  shook  hands  over  the  table. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

SNODGRASS   SEEKS  SATISFACTION. 

Of  course  the  unexpected  withdrawal  of  Arnold  and 
Snodgrass  from  their  respective  crews  created  com- 
ment. Both  men  manufactured  excuses,  but  these  ex- 
cuses proved  to  be  rather  flimsy  when  investigated. 
They  seemed  to  have  suddenly  lost  their  sand  in  the 
face  of  the  rigid  training,  and  decided  to  get  out.  This 
caused  many  to  regard  them  with  contempt,  and  Snod- 
grass ate  his  heart  out  with  rage  toward  the  one  he 
regarded  as  the  author  of  all  his  trouble.  Never  for 
a  moment  did  he  regard  himself  as  in  any  way  to 
blame. 

Arnold  was  afraid  of  Merriwell;  but,  if  possible, 
just  then  he  was  more  afraid  of  Snodgrass,  who  was 
desperate  enough  for  any  move.  The  sophomore 
swore  by  various  things  he  was  supposed  to  regard  as 
sacred  that  he  would  get  even  with  Merriwell.  He 
vowed  that  the  freshmen  should  meet  with  defeat,  but 
when  he  came  to  meditate  on  the  matter  some  time  it 
did  not  seem  to  him  that  the  simple  defeat  of  the  fresh- 
men would  be  revenge  enough  on  Merriwell. 

No;  he  longed  for  blood!  He  pictured  himself  as 
jumping  on  Frank  and  giving  him  a  terrible  drub- 
bing. In  this  fanciful  encounter  he  knocked  Merriwell 
down  again  and  again.  Oh,  how  he  quivered  with  sat- 


Snodgrass  Seeks  Satisfaction.        279 

isfaction  as  he  felt  his  fists  beating  Merriwell's  hand- 
some face  into  a  mass  of  cuts  and  bruises!  How  he 
laughed  and  gloated.  And  at  last,  when  he  had 
knocked  down  and  out  the  fellow  he  hated,  he  stood 
and  sneered  at  him,  with  arms  folded  and  a  heart  full 
of  triumph. 

This  was  a  glorious  battle  and  a  glorious  victory; 
but,  unfortunately  for  the  feelings  of  the  revengeful 
Snodgrass,  he  knew  it  could  happen  only  in  his  mind. 
He  knew  that  he  was  no  match  for  Merriwell,  and  it 
made  him  grind  his  teeth  with  fury.  He  even  thought 
of  sand-bags,  brass  knuckles,  clubs,  and  such  things. 

He  didn't  wish  to  kill  Merriwell;  not  at  all.  The 
desire  to  do  so  may  have  possessed  him,  but  fear  of 
the  consequences  was  enough  to  make  him  cast  such 
a  thought  aside  at  once.  He  wanted  simply  to  have 
the  satisfaction  of  maiming  and  hurting  Frank.  Oh, 
it  would  be  great  to  do  him  up  so  he  could  not  get 
out  to  the  ball-ground!  In  that  case,  of  course,  he 
would  be  unable  to  coach  the  freshmen. 

Arnold  was  frightened  when  Snodgrass  imparted 
his  desires.  He  feared  that  Ben  might  be  foolish 
enough  to  set  out  to  do  the  trick,  taking  him  along  as 
a  witness.  He  expostulated  with  Snodgrass. 

"Forget  it!"  he  said.  "Other  fellows  have  tried  to 
do  Merriwell  like  that,  and  they've  always  got  it  in 
the  neck  themselves.  You  can't  get  even  with  him 
that  way." 

"I  can  and  will!"  grated  the  vindictive  sophomore. 

"You'll  get  the  worst  thrashing  you  ever  had." 


280        Snodgrass  Seeks  Satisfaction. 

"Don't  you  think  it.  I'll  not  do  the  job  myself. 
I  can  find  a  way." 

Then  Snodgrass  proceeded  to  the  loafmg-place  of  a 
certain  gang  of  young  thugs.  Buster  Bill,  the  leader 
of  the  gang,  had  "done  time,"  and,  taken  all  together, 
the  thugs  were  a  disgrace  to  the  college  city. 

Snodgrass  put  on  his  old  clothes,  and  away  he  went 
to  the  vicinity  of  the  wharves.  Down  there,  near 
where  he  knew  Buster  Bill  hung  out,  he  collared  a 
street  urchin  and  questioned  him. 

At  first  the  boy  didn't  know  anything  that  Snod- 
grass wanted  to  know.  He  would  not  answer  ques- 
tions. He  bawled :  "Leggo,  you  big  slob !  Watcher 
think  ye're  doin',  anyhow?"  But  Snodgrass  perse- 
vered. 

"I  want  to  see  my  friend  Bill  Riley,"  he  said.  "I 
know  he  hangs  out  here.  I'll  give  you  a  quarter  if 
you'll  find  Bill  for  me." 

"G'wan !  yer  can't  fool  me !"  said  the  boy.  "I  dunno 
no  Bill  Riley,  an'  I  don't  believe  you'd  fork  over  a 
quarter,  annyhow." 

Snodgrass  took  out  the  money,  and  held  it  up  be- 
fore the  eyes  of  the  dirty,  squirming  lad.  The  squirm- 
ing ceased,  and  the  boy  eyed  the  piece  of  silver 
greedily. 

"There  it  is,"  said  the  college  youth.  "Now,  show 
me  Bill  Riley,  and  it's  yours." 

The  boy  seemed  to  be  contemplating  making  a  grab 
for  the  money. 

"I  dunno  Bill  Riley,"  he  persisted.   "What's  he  do?" 


Snodgrass  Seeks  Satisfaction.         281 

"He's  a  gent,"  declared  Snodgrass,  with  assumed 
loftiness.  "He  don't  do  a  thing.  He  lives  on  the  in- 
terest of  his  money.  I  met  him  last  summer  in  jail." 

"Hey?"  said  the  boy.     "Where  was  dat?" 

"Blackwell's  Island.    Ever  heard  of  it?" 

"Sure,  Mike!  I  know  a  feller  that's  been  there, 
and  the  gang  calls  him  Bill." 

"What's  his  last  name?" 

"I  dunno.     Alwus  heard  him  called  der  Buster." 

"That's  the  man  I  want  to  find!"  exclaimed  Snod- 
grass.  "He  told  me  to  hunt  him  up  if  I  ever  came 
this  way." 

The  boy  looked  incredulous. 

"Why,  youse  ain't  like  anny  of  his  gang,"  he  de- 
clared. "Anny  of  'em  could  eat  youse." 

"Perhaps  so;  perhaps  not.  But  I  want  to  find  Bill, 
and  this  quarter  is  yours  if  you  take  me  to  him." 

The  urchin  reflected.  He  was  in  mortal  fear  of 
Buster  Bill  and  "der  gang,"  but  he  wanted  that  quar- 
ter. It  was  possible  that  this  stranger  told  the  truth. 
It  might  be  he  knew  Bill,  and  Bill  would  be  glad  to 
see  him.  Did  he  dare  to  chance  it  for  the  quarter? 

Snodgrass  kept  still,  knowing  it  might  be  a  mistake 
to  seem  too  anxious. 

"Annyhow,"  said  the  boy,  "Bill  an'  his  gang  will 
knock  the  stuffin's  out  of  you  if  you're  a  stranger.  Dey 
don't  like  to  be  bothered  when  dey're  havin'  a  little 
settin'." 

So  the  boy  knew  where  Buster  Bill  was  to  be  found, 
and  Snodgrass  tightened  his  hold. 


282        Snodgrass  Seeks  Satisfaction. 

"I'll  make  it  fifty  cents,"  he  declared.  "Two  good, 
new  quarters.  What  do  you  say?" 

"I  tell  ye  you'll  git  your  face  broke  sure  if  Bill  don't 
know  yer." 

"I'll  chance  it." 

"Den  I'll  take  yer  to  'em.  Come  on.  Leggo  my 
collar.  Gimme  der  money  first." 

"Not  on  your  life!  I'll  pay  the  minute  I  put  my 
eyes  on  Bill — not  before." 

The  urchin  led  him  amid  the  wharf  buildings,  where 
the  smell  of  the  water  was  strong.  Through  an  old 
lumber-yard  they  went,  coming  out  at  last  to  a  sag- 
ging building. 

"Sh !"  cautioned  the  boy,  as  he  stole  forward  on  his 
toes. 

Snodgrass  stepped  lightly,  but  did  not  hesitate  to 
follow. 

The  boy  opened  an  old  door,  and  they  entered  the 
lower  part  of  the  building.  There  they  paused,  and  the 
mumbling  sound  of  voices  reached  them  from  some 
place  up  above. 

Still  motioning  for  Snodgrass  to  be  still,  the  boy 
led  the  way  to  a  ladder  that  led  up  through  a  square 
scuttle-hole  above.  Up  the  ladder  the  lad  softly 
skipped,  and  Snodgrass  followed  at  his  heels.  The 
heart  of  the  college  man  was  thumping  heavily  in  his 
bosom,  for  this  was  more  of  an  adventure  than  he 
had  counted  on  when  he  started  out. 

"Dey're  at  it!"  whispered  the  boy,  pausing  on  the 
top  of  the  ladder. 


Snodgrass  Seeks  Satisfaction.         283 

He  looked  to  see  if  his  companion  showed  signs  of 
alarm,  but  Snodgrass  appeared  as  eager  as  ever,  and 
the  boy  slipped  off  the  ladder  to  the  floor  of  the  loft. 

Barely  had  Snodgrass  followed  when  there  arose  a 
sudden  commotion  beyond  a  dark  door  that  could 
scarcely  be  seen  in  that  gloomy,  cobwebby  place. 
There  was  a  volley  of  oaths,  a  blow,  and  a  fall. 

"That's  him !"  hissed  the  boy.  "He's  knocked  some- 
body down!  Oh,  but  he's  a  holy  terror,  an'  he'll  be 
red-hot  now !  Don't  yer  t'ink  ye'd  better  turn  round?" 

"Not  much!" 

"Den  gimme  der  fifty.  I've  kept  my  part  of  der 
bargain.  He's  in  dere,  so  jest  walk  in." 

Snodgrass  gave  the  boy  half  a  dollar,  and,  one 
second  later,  the  youngster  went  down  the  ladder  like 
a  frightened  cat,  leaving  Ben  there  alone. 

The  desperate  sophomore  shuddered  a  bit  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"He's  just  the  kind  of  a  man  I  must  have!"  he 
thought.  "I'd  be  a  fool  to  back  out  now !  Brace  up, 
Ben,  and  walk  right  in.  Your  reception  may  not  be 
cordial,  but  you  must  set  yourself  right.  It's  to  down 
Merriwell,  and  I'm  ready  to  face  the  devil  to  do  that !" 

Then  he  advanced  to  the  door  and  thrust  it  open. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

ANOTHER     COMPACT. 

The  light  from  one  dingy  and  dirty  window  shone 
into  the  place.  Where  the  light  of  the  window  fell  on 
it  was  a  rough  table,  about  which  four  persons  had 
been  sitting.  Just  now  one  of  them  was  standing, 
while  another  still  lay  on  the  floor,  having  raised  him- 
self to  his  elbow,  but  without  daring  to  rise.  The 
one  on  the  floor  had  been  knocked  down  by  the  one 
who  was  standing. 

On  the  table  were  cards,  money,  and  two  bottles  of 
whisky.  There  were  no  glasses  to  drink  from.  These 
men  drank  directly  from  the  bottle. 

Rough-looking  fellows  they  were.  Plainly,  at  a 
glance,  they  were  young  thugs  of  the  city  slums. 

They  had  been  gambling  for  money.  The  cards 
were  scattered  carelessly,  as  they  had  been  dropped 
when  the  sudden  quarrel  began  over  the  game. 

The  fellow  standing  was  six  feet  tall,  with  broad 
shoulders,  thick,  muscular  arms,  deep  chest,  heavy 
legs,  and  the  face  of  the  genuine  young  ruffian.  His 
jaw  was  square,  protruding,  and  brutal.  Still,  in  a 
certain  way,  there  was  something  handsome  about  him. 

At  a  glance  Snodgrass  knew  that  man  was  Buster 
Bill.  No  one  could  doubt  that  he  was  the  leader  of  the 
gang. 


Another  Compact.  285 

When  the  door  opened,  and  Snodgrass  appeared  be- 
fore the  startled  eyes  of  the  gang,  they  turned  and 
glared  at  him. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  gentlemen,"  said  the  college 
man.  "I  am  looking  for  William  Riley." 

"The  blazes  you  are!"  said  Buster  Bill.  "Who  ir 
thunder  are  you  ?" 

"A  spy !"  cried  one  of  the  others  excitedly. 

"We're  pinched !"  exclaimed  another. 

The  gang  seemed  ready  to  make  a  fight  on  the  spot. 
Their  hands  sought  hidden  weapons.  Snodgrass  was 
uneasy,  but  he  did  not  shrink  or  retreat,  which  was  a 
very  good  thing  for  him.  If  he  had  betrayed  signs 
of  alarm  just  then  he  could  not  have  escaped  without 
broken  bones.  Instead,  he  calmly  said : 

"I  am  no  spy,  and  the  police  are  not  behind  me.  I 
came  here  on  business  of  importance,  and  my  business 
is  with  Mr.  Riley." 

Mr.  Riley!  That  was  odd  enough.  William  Riley 
had  been  a  shocker,  but  Mr.  Riley  was  worse  still. 
They  looked  at  Snodgrass  in  doubt. 

What  sort  of  business  could  this  man,  this  beardless 
chap,  have  with  Buster  Bill  ?  Generally  the  man  who 
hunted  for  Bill  on  the  pretext  of  business  carried  a 
warrant  and  a  pair  of  handcuffs. 

"Well,  why  in  thunder  don't  yer  come  in?"  de- 
manded Bill  himself. 

Then  Snodgrass  entered,  though  he  felt  much  more 
like  making  a  dash  to  get  out.  He  walked  into  the 
room  with  an  assumed  air  of  nonchalance. 


286  Another  Compact. 

Barely  was  he  well  into  the  room,  however,  when 
Buster  Bill  made  one  leap,  slammed  the  door  shut, 
and  put  his  back  against  it. 

"Well,"  he  said,  as  he  faced  round,  "we've  got  ye 
now,  anyhow!" 

"That's  right,"  said  Snodgrass,  calmly  sitting  down 
on  a  box. 

The  other  men  were  on  their  feet.  The  one  who 
had  been  knocked  down  stood  over  the  college  man, 
demanding : 

"Wot  shall  we  do  with  him,  Bill?  Give  der  word 
an'  we'll  kick  der  packin'  out  of  him!" 

"Wait  a  little,"  said  the  leader.  "We'll  find  out  wot 
ther  bloke  wants  here." 

The  fellow  standing  over  Snodgrass  looked  disap- 
pointed. He  had  been  struck,  and  he  longed  to  re- 
taliate on  somebody.  He  had  been  eager  to  strike,, 
beat,  and  kick  the  intruder. 

Buster  Bill  stepped  toward  the  college  man.  Despite 
his  size  and  weight,  his  step  was  light.  Snodgrass 
sized  him  up  and  nodded  to  himself  with  satisfaction. 
Surely  here  was  a  fellow  who  could  give  Frank  Mer- 
riwell  a  .go  "all  by  his  lonesome."  With  his  gang  at 
his  back  he  could  wipe  Merriwell  off  the  map.  All  that 
was  needed  now  was  to  strike  a  bargain. 

Bill  pulled  a  chair  out  in  front  of  Snodgrass  and  sat 
down,  making  a  motion  that  the  others  understood. 
They  pulled  their  seats  out  and  sat  all  about  the  in- 
truder. He  was  in  the  midst  of  them,  and  they  had  him 
foul.  Let  him  whistle  now,  and  thev  could  pounce  on 


Another  Compact.  287 

him  and  kick  him  into  jelly  before  the  police  could 
reach  them. 

When  they  had  seated  themselves,  Buster  Bill 
seemed  to  think  of  something,  and  he  said : 

"Skip,  just  take  a  sneak  out  and  look  round.  Come 
back  and  tell  us  if  you  see  anything." 

The  smallest  man  of  the  gang,  a  wiry  young  thug, 
arose  and  slipped  out  of  the  room. 

"I  am  sorry  I  interrupted  your  little  game,"  said 
Snodgrass  pleasantly. 

"Don't  mention  it,"  growled  Riley. 

"You  have  a  very  comfortable  place  here,"  declared 
the  college  man. 

"Uh-ha!"  grunted  Riley. 

"Nobody  likely  to  bother  you  here,"  declared  the 
college  man. 

"You  did,"  reminded  Riley. 

"Well,  I  had  hard  enough  work  finding  you." 

Skip  came  back  and  informed  them  that  everything 
seemed  to  be  all  right,  with  nobody  round  to  bother 
them. 

"I  hope  you  are  satisfied,  gentlemen,"  said  Snod- 
grass, "that  I  am  not  a  spy.  I  told  you  the  truth  when 
I  said  I  came  here  on  business." 

"Wot's  in  it?" 

"Money,"  was  the  answer.    "I  have  heard  of  Mr. 

Riley's  powers,  and " 

"Call  me  Bill." 

"Well,  I've  heard  that  Bill  is  a  holy  terror  and  can 


288  Another  Compact. 

lick  his  weight  in  grizzly  bears.  That  report  is  what 
brought  me  here." 

Buster  Bill  relaxed  somewhat. 

"Yer  want  somebody  t'umped  ?"  he  asked. 

"You've  guessed  it  first  shot." 

"Wot's  der  price?" 

"Fifty." 

"Fifty  wot?" 

"Dollars." 

"Got  der  dough?" 

"Sure." 

"In  yer  clothes?" 

"No;  I'm  not  fool  enough  to  carry  so  much  round 
with  me.  I  don't  think  I  have  more  than  two  dollars 
in  my  pockets." 

The  ruffians  exchanged  looks  of  disappointment. 

Ben  Snodgrass  had  been  very  wise  when  he  left  his 
money  behind  him  this  day. 

"Are  youse  one  of  dem  college  guys?"  asked  Riley. 

"Yes,  I  am  a  student." 

"I  was  beginning  to  t'ink  so.  Got  it  in  fer  annodder 
dub  an'  wants  ter  have  him  cropped,  eh?  Well,  I'll 
do  der  trick  fer  fifty,  but  I'll  have  ter  have  der  dough 
in  advance." 

"Even  you,  Bill,  may  not  find  the  job  a  cinch,"  said 
Snodgrass.  "He's  a  bad  man." 

"Oh,  wot  yer  givin'  me!  If  I  can  have  a  good 
chance  at  him  I'll  polish  der  duck  off  in  one  minute." 

"You  may  have  as  good  a  chance  as  you  want.  He 
goes  out  to  the  ball-field  every  afternoon  lately,  and 


Another  Compact.  289 

he  has  taken  to  walking  in  alone  just  at  dark.  He 
always  returns  to  Vanderbilt  a  certain  way.  There 
are  some  scattering  houses  and  an  open  spot.  No 
lights  there  to  speak  of.  A  fine  chance  to  come  on  him 
suddenly." 

"Well,  say!  you  oughter  be  able  ter  do  him  yerself 
widout  callin'  on  me  fer  help.  Wot's  der  matter  wid 
layin'  for  him  dere  an'  soakin'  him  wid  a  club?" 

"I  have  to  be  somewhere  else  when  it  happens.  If 
I'm  suspected,  I  want  to  prove  an  alibi." 

"Is  dat  it?  Don't  s'pose  it's  'cause  yer  lacks  der 
nerve?  Of  course  not!" 

The  thugs  laughed  roughly,  and  Snodgrass  flushed 
a  little. 

"It  would  be  no  disgrace  to  be  afraid  of  this  man," 
he  asserted,  somewhat  haughtily. 

"Well,  who  der  blazes  can  it  be?"  cried  Buster  Bill. 

"His  name  is  Frank  Merriwell,"  said  the  student. 

"Wot!"  cried  the  leader  of  the  gang.  "Why,  you 
don't  mean  der  feller  wot  everybody  is  makin'  such  a 
fuss  over?  Not  der  cap'n  of  der  ball-team?" 

"Yes." 

"Yer  wants  me  ter  smash  him  ?" 

"Yes." 

"An'  you'll  pay  fifty  for  the  job?" 

"Yes." 

"In  advance  ?" 

"Twenty-five  in  advance,  and  the  balance  the  day 
following  the  completion  of  the  job." 

"That's  the  easiest  way  of  makin'  a  fifty  stroke  I've 


290  Another  Compact. 

heard  of  lately!  It'll  be  pie  for  me.  An',  say,  I've 
been  wantin'  to  get  a  lick  at  him  fer  some  time.  He 
makes  me  sick !  Dey  talk  about  him  bein'  a  great  ath- 
lete !  I've  seen  him,  an'  I  know  I  can  break  him  clean 
in  two!" 

"If  you  have  a  notion  that  Merriwell  is  soft,  you 
are  making  a  big  mistake,  and  you'll  receive  a  severe 
surprise  when  you  tackle  him.  He  may  look  soft,  but 
he  is  the  hardest  man  you  ever  went  against,  and  he 
has  astonishing  luck.  It  will  be  well  for  you  to  have 
your  men  along  to  see  the  sport.  Perhaps  you  may 
need  their  assistance  before  you  are  done  with  Merri- 
well." 

Riley  was  offended. 

"Look  here,"  he  cried,  "I  don't  like  that  kind  of 
talk !  I  ain't  never  run  against  der  bloke  wot  could  do 
me.  An'  I'll  have  der  advantage  of  dis  feller  by  takin' 
him  by  surprise.  Why,  I'll  pulverize  him  before  he 
can  lift  a  finger!" 

"I  hope  so." 

"How  bad  do  you  want  him  done  ?" 

"I  want  him  sent  to  the  hospital.  If  you  could  man- 
age to  break  a  few  of  his  ribs  it  would  please  me 
greatly.  At  any  rate,  I  want  him  thumped  so  badly 
that  he'll  have  to  keep  under  cover  for  four  days. 
That's  all  I  ask." 

"It's  a  snap!  But  w'en  do  I  git  der  twenty-five? 
Dat  has  ter  come  down  before  I  go  inter  de  game." 

"I'll  pay  you  that  to-night.    I  will  meet  you  at  ten 


Another  Compact.  291 

o'clock  at  the  west  end  of  Barnsville  Bridge  and  give 

you  the  money  there.    Is  that  satisfactory  ?" 

Riley  looked  at  Snodgrass  sharply,  as  if  a  doubt 

had  entered  his  mind,  but  he  finally  nodded,  saying : 
"Dat's  all  right.    I  guess  ye're  on  der  level,  pal." 
"You  needn't  worry  about  that.     I  want  Merriwell 

done  up,  and  I'm  ready  to  pay.     You'll  find  me  on 

hand  with  the  other  twenty-five  at  the  same  place  the 

very  night  you  jump  him.     It  makes  no  difference  to 

you  just  why  I  want  him  downed." 

"Not  a  blamed  bit,  pal !    I'm  out  for  der  dough." 
"Then  the  bargain  is  made.    Let's  shake  hands  on 

it." 

Snodgrass  rose  and  offered  his  hand,  which  the  big 

thug  accepted,  and  gave  a  grip  to  seal  the  dastardly, 

compact. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

BUSTER    BILL    SURPRISED. 

Frank  was  methodical  in  everything  he  did,  and 
that  was  how  he  accomplished  so  much  without  being 
swamped.  He  gave  just  so  much  time  to  everything. 
.When  the  work  of  the  day  was  all  done,  he  ventured 
to  spend  a  little  time  in  idleness,  but  not  till  then. 

No  man  ever  accomplishes  great  things  and  per- 
forms great  labors  unless  he  is  methodical.  The  per- 
son who  goes  at  any  task  by  fits  and  starts  does  not 
make  rapid  progress.  It  is  persistent  hammering  away 
at  anything  that  counts  in  the  end.  In  the  fable  the 
tortoise  beat  the  hare;  so  the  slow,  plodding,  deter- 
mined man  often  beats  the  brilliant,  flighty,  erratic 
man  of  genius  in  the  race  of  life. 

Steady  hammering  at  one  kind  of  work  becomes  mo- 
notonous after  a  time,  it  is  true,  and  a  man  may  wear 
himself  out  before  his  time  in  such  a  manner.  But 
give  him  variety,  let  him  change  at  certain  hours  of 
the  day  from  one  thing  to  another,  and  the  amount  he 
can  accomplish  will  amaze  those  who  look  on  and 
never  put  their  powers  to  the  full  test. 

Frank  Merriwell's  life  was  one  of  constant  change 
and  variety.  The  classroom,  the  gymnasium,  the  ball- 


Buster  Bill  Surprised.  293 

field,  the  rowing-tank,  or  the  shell  led  him  from  one 
thing  to  another  at  certain  hours,  and  so  he  performed 
an  amount  of  labor  that  astounded  lazy  students. 

Each  afternoon  he  reached  the  field  at  a  certain 
hour.  He  entered  into  the  work  there  with  vim  and 
vigor.  When  it  was  over,  he  had  a  way  of  starting  off 
by  himself  to  walk  back  to  Vanderbilt.  He  preferred 
to  make  this  little  walk  quite  alone.  His  friends  had 
found  this  out,  and  they  permitted  him  to  do  so. 

There  may  have  been  a  secret  reason  why  Frank 
chose  to  walk  back  unaccompanied  from  the  field.  Per- 
haps it  would  seem  impolite  to  pry  into  some  of  his 
secrets.  All  day  long  he  was  thinking  of  studies,  lec- 
tures, gymnastics,  baseball,  and  rowing — all  day  ex- 
cept during  this  walk  by  himself  in  the  dusk  of  early 
evening. 

Of  what  was  he  thinking  then  ?  Why  was  it  that  he 
often  smiled  fondly  to  himself,  as  if  looking  into  the 
face  of  some  one  very  dear?  Why  was  it  that  he 
seemed  utterly  oblivious  to  his  surroundings  as  he 
swung  along  with  that  beautiful,  easy  stride?  Why 
was  it  that  sometimes  his  lips  moved,  and — listen !  did 
he  murmur  a  name?  Was  it — Inza? 

But  we'll  not  pry  into  his  secrets,  although  we  un- 
derstand now  how  it  was  that,  with  his  mind  far  away, 
he  walked  straight  into  the  trap  that  had  been  pre- 
pared for  him.  At  another  time  he  might  not  have 
been  taken  so  by  surprise,  for,  as  a  rule,  he  seemed  con- 
stantly on  the  alert.  Now,  before  he  realized  anything 
was  wrong,  a  man  had  jumped  out  at  him  from  the 


294  Buster  Bill  Surprised. 

corner  and  struck  him  a  terrible  blow  on  the  side  of 
the  head. 

That  blow  knocked  Frank  down ! 

Buster  Bill  had  started  in  to  earn  his  money,  and  it 
must  be  confessed  that  he  had  made  a  good  beginning. 

He  had  intended  to  jump  on  Merriwell  instantly, 
but  now  he  paused,  astonished  that  even  a  college  ath- 
lete could  be  popped  over  so  easily.  That  pause  was 
fatal  to  the  ruffian's  plans. 

Although  the  shock  had  been  terrible,  although  his 
head  was  ringing  and  he  was  somewhat  dazed,  Merri- 
well quickly  recovered  and  started  to  rise. 

Then,  with  a  snarl,  the  thug  made  another  spring 
and  a  kick.  He  meant  to  earn  his  money  by  fractur- 
ing a  rib  with  his  heavy  boot. 

In  a  crouching  position  Frank  Merriwell  sprang 
aside  with  a  froglike  hop.  Then  he  straightened  up. 
The  violence  of  that  kick,  which  had  reached  nothing 
but  empty  air,  had  thrown  Buster  Bill  down. 

When  Bill,  astonished  beyond  measure,  scrambled  to 
his  feet,  he  found  Frank  Merriwell,  the  Yale  athlete, 
waiting  for  him. 

Not  a  word  passed  Merry's  lips,  but  he  sailed  into 
that  fellow  in  a  manner  that  meant  business.  He 
swung  at  Bill's  head,  and  Bill  did  not  entirely  avoid 
the  blow.  He  was  hit  pretty  hard,  but  not  hard 
enough  to  knock  him  off  his  pins. 

Then  a  hot  time  followed.  If  Buster  Bill  had  under- 
rated his  antagonist  at  the  start,  he  soon  experienced 


Buster  Bill  Surprised.  295 

a  change  of  opinion.  The  Yale  man,  for  all  of  the 
blow  he  had  received,  became  the  aggressor  in  less  than 
thirty  seconds. 

Bill,  you  are  in  trouble  for  fair.  There  you  have  it, 
fair  and  square  on  the  nose,  and  it  was  a  solid  jolt,  too. 
It  started  your  nose  to  bleeding,  but  you  don't  mind 
that,  of  course!  only  boys  mind  when  they  get  a 
crack  on  the  nose  that  starts  the  claret.  But  there  is 
another  in  the  eye.  That  will  be  likely  to  give  you  a 
very  pretty  eye  to  show  your  friends  to-morrow. 
You'll  be  proud  of  it,  Bill,  and  you  will  enjoy  exhibit- 
ing it  to  the  gang. 

Brace  up,  Buster  Bill ;  it  won't  do  to  let  this  smooth- 
faced, clear-eyed,  handsome  fellow  get  in  many  more 
like  that  one  on  the  cheek.  If  he  does,  you'll  have 
a  mug  that  will  arouse  doubts  in  regard  to  your  ve- 
racity when  you  explain  to-morrow  that  you  fell  down 
on  the  hard  ground  just  by  accident.  People  may 
listen  to  you,  Bill ;  but  inwardly  they  will  be  asking  if 
you  fell  or  were  pushed. 

What  ails  the  fellow,  anyhow  ?  Why  won't  he  keep 
still  and  let  you  hit  him  back  a  few  times,  gentle  Will- 
iam ?  It  doesn't  seem  hardly  fair  for  him  to  do  all  the 
hitting,  with  the  exception  of  that  first  blow ;  now,  does 
k  ?  If  you  had  dreamed  he  was  going  to  act  this  way, 
you  would  have  hit  him  with  a  brick,  wouldn't  you, 
Bill? 

Great  Scott !  but  that  was  an  awful  jab  in  the  wind, 
Bill !  It  doubled  you  up  beautifully.  And  then  he  was 
rude  enougrh  to  give  you  another  one  on  the  ear. 


296  Buster  Bill  Surprised. 

What  are  you  doing  down  there,  William  ?  You'll  get 
your  clothes  dirty  rolling  round  on  the  ground. 

That's  right,  sir;  get  right  up,  like  a  little  man. 
He'll  accommodate  you  by  knocking  you  down  again. 
How  long  can  you  keep  it  up,  Bill?  Your  head  is 
pretty  hard,  but  even  a  wooden  head  must  get  tired  of 
being  biffed  round  in  such  a  manner. 

Don't  froth,  man!  It'll  not  do  you  a  bit  of  good. 
Don't  gnash  your  teeth,  for  you'll  not  frighten  him 
that  way.  He  doesn't  seem  a  bit  afraid  of  you,  and 
he  keeps  coming  right  after  you  all  the  time.  At  least, 
he  might  have  the  decency  to  give  you  a  rest. 

What's  that,  you  mighty  thug,  you  slayer  of  men? 
Can  it  be  that  you  realize  you  have  met  your  master 
in  this  college  chap  at  whom  you  sneered?  Who  are 
you  shouting  to  ?  On  my  life,  I  believe  you  are  calling 
to  your  friends  for  help ! 

Yes,  it  is  true!  And  here  they  come  through  the 
dusk  on  the  run,  four  of  them  in  all!  Well,  well! 
you've. surely  got  the  college  chap  in  a  bad  place  now; 
but  if  you  down  him  at  last,  Bill,  you  can't  brag  that 
you  did  it  alone,  and  I  do  not  fancy  that  you'll  feel 
very  proud  of  the  job. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 
HIS  FOES  "SCATTERED  AROUND." 

Buster  Bill  had  met  the  surprise  of  his  life.  He  had 
not  dreamed  of  anything  like  this.  Why,  he  would 
have  bet  his  life  that  he  could  whip  any  man  in  Yale 
with  one  hand  tied  behind  his  back !  That  was  before 
the  encounter.  After  the  encounter  he  felt  differently 
about  it. 

Never  in  all  his  life  had  he  found  a  man  so  hard  to 
hit  as  this  fellow  Merriwell.  Never  in  all  his  career 
at  the  ringside  had  he  seen  a  man  who  could  do  such 
lively  foot-work.  The  manner  in  which  Merriwell  got 
in,  punched,  and  got  away  was  something  very  exas- 
perating to  Mr.  Riley. 

At  first  the  ruffian  had  fancied  he  was  doing  the 
rushing,  and  he  tried  to  follow  his  nimble  antagonist 
about;  but  the  time  quickly  came  when  he  discovered 
that  he  was  not  doing  nearly  as  much  rushing  as  he 
had  fancied. 

The  college  man  was  a  perfect  tempest.  He  was 
here,  there,  everywhere.  He  went  under  Riley's  arm 
with  a  ducking  leap,  came  up  behind  the  fellow  and 
smote  him  a  staggerer  on  the  back  of  the  head. 

When  that  happened  Mr.  Riley  got  down  on  his 
knees.  It  was  a  most  unusual  position  for  him,  and  he 
wondered  to  find  himself  there.  With  an  expression 


298        His  Foes  "Scattered  Around." 

of  dissatisfaction  at  the  way  things  were  occurring,  he 
hoisted  himself  in  time  to  get  a  lovely  jolt  on  the  jaw. 

Riley  tried  to  induce  the  other  chap  to  stand  still 
and  be  hit  a  few  times,  just  to  even  things  up  a  little ; 
but  Frank  Merriwell  proved  to  be  a  most  unaccommo- 
dating fellow  at  this  point.  He  declined  to  let  Riley 
get  in  another  blow. 

Then  it  was  that  Buster  Bill  began  to  be  sorry  that 
he  had  not  used  a  brick  when  he  hit  the  fellow  at  the 
start.  A  brick  would  have  settled  it  at  once,  and  there 
would  have  been  no  taking  chances. 

But  he  had  not  fancied  he  was  taking  chances,  any- 
how. We  have  all  to  live  and  learn.  To-morrow  Mr. 
Riley  and  his  friends  were  to  make  remarks  about 
Frank  Merriwell,  and,  even  though  those  remarks 
would  not  do  for  printing  in  the  program  of  a  Sun- 
day-school concert,  they  were  to  be  highly  compli- 
mentary. 

Bill  snarled  and  frothed,  but  all  that  amounted  to 
nothing.  He  found  it  was  no  use;  he  could  not  hit 
Merriwell,  and  he  was  swiftly  getting  cut  all  to 
pieces.  When  his  wind  gave  out,  he  began  to  feel  un- 
speakable alarm. 

I  hate  to  confess  it  about  such  a  brave  scoundrel  as 
Bill,  but  there  was  a  moment  when  he  actually  thought 
of  taking  to  his  heels  and  running  for  it. 

Then  he  remembered  that  this  Merriwell  had  the 
reputation  of  being  a  sprinter.  Whatever  he  had  ever 
said  about  college  men,  he  had  never  denied  that  they 
could  run. 


His  Foes  "Scattered  Around."        299 

Besides  that,  there  were  the  fellows  back  there  be- 
hind the  old  building,  waiting  for  him  to  do  the  job. 
They  were  peering  wonderingly  through  the  gloom,  he 
knew,  speculating  over  the  astonishing  encounter  that 
was  taking  place.  If  he  ran  away  his  days  of  leader- 
ship would  be  over  with  "the  gang." 

Then  he  thought  of  shouting  to  them,  but  it  seemed 
almost  equally  as  disgraceful  to  call  for  help,  and  his 
pride  held  his  lips  for  a  time. 

Merriwell  improved  that  time  of  silence  by  hitting 
the  thug  some  jabs  that  made  him  somewhat  weary. 
Not  until  he  found  himself  groggy  and  going  to  pieces 
swiftly  did  Bill  yell  for  his  companions. 

Up  to  that  time  Frank  Merriwell  had  fancied  his 
assailant  was  there  quite  by  himself ;  but  with  that  first 
cry  Merriwell  realized  there  might  be  other  ruffians 
there. 

Then  Merry  redoubled  his  efforts  to  finish  Bill  be- 
fore the  others  appeared.  He  heard  their  footsteps, 
and  from  a  corner  of  his  eyes  he  saw  dark  forms  com- 
ing swiftly  toward  him. 

Then  Merry  did  his  level  best  to  dispose  of  Bill  be- 
fore the  others  came  up.  He  got  in  two  terrible  blows, 
and  the  second  one  stretched  the  thug  senseless  on  the 
ground. 

But  he  did  not  try  to  avoid  the  encounter  with  Bus- 
ter Bill's  friends.  He  met  them,  actually  springing 
forward  to  do  so. 

The  one  in  advance  received  a  surprise  in  the  shape 
of  a  hard  fist  on  the  chin,  and  he  lay  down  to  think 


3oo       His  Foes  "Scattered  Around." 

it  over  and  wonder  just  what  had  happened.  There 
were  three  left,  and  they  went  at  Merriwell  with  in- 
tense ferocity. 

Surely  by  this  time  Merriwell  must  be  pretty  well 
played  out.  It  looks  bad  for  him.  These  fellows  are 
likely  to  find  him  an  easy  victim  now. 

But  are  they?  Merry  seemed  just  as  fierce,  just  as 
lively,  just  as  terrible  as  he  had  been  when  at  his  best 
in  the  little  affair  with  Mr.  Riley.  He  was  not  aware 
that  he  felt  the  least  fatigue,  and  the  way  he  met  and 
smashed  into  those  fellows  was  as  much  a  surprise  to 
them  as  his  same  style  of  conduct  had  been  to  Buster 
Bill. 

Where  was  Bill  ?  They  called  to  him,  but  he  did  not 
answer.  Could  that  be  him  on  the  ground?  What 
was  he  doing  down  there?  It  must  be  that  he  had 
been  knocked  out  with  a  slung-shot.  No  other  explana- 
tion could  be  accepted. 

The  same  kind  of  slung-shot  was  coming  at  them. 
Look  out  for  it,  you  thugs  of  the  long  docks,  or  you'll 
find  yourselves  imitating  your  leader! 

Why  was  it  they  could  not  seem  to  get  at  him  and 
crush  him  at  once?  Why  was  it  that  he  seemed  able 
to  keep  them  in  the  way  of  one  another,  so  that  they 
were  bothered  to  reach  him?  When  one  of  them 
opened  his  arms  to  grasp  Merriwell  around  the  waist 
from  behind  he  succeeded  in  clasping  a  friend  and 
throwing  him  down.  And  while  he  was  doing  this 
Merriwell  got  in  a  crack  at  the  third  man  that  caused 
him  to  seek  a  reclining  position  beside  Buster  Bill  and 


His  Foes  "Scattered  Around."       301 

the  other  "gent"  that  had  hastened  at  the  call  for  aid 
to  bump  into  Frank. 

Then  they  found  there  were  but  two  of  them  left  to 
down  this  Yale  man  who  should  be  such  an  easy  mark 
for  any  one  of  them.  Perhaps  two  would  be  able  to 
do  a  better  job  than  more  of  them.  Two  would  not 
get  in  each  other's  way  so  often. 

They  were  not  given  much  time  to  think  about  this, 
for  Merriwell  followed  up  the  fight  and  waded  into 
them. 

This  put  the  ruffians  on  the  defensive,  which  was 
something  quite  against  their  liking.  He  knocked  one 
of  them  up  against  the  other,  and  then  tried  to  drop 
them  both  with  a  swinging  right  and  left. 

Ihey  separated  and  closed  in  on  him  from  opposite 
sides.  He  struck  one  and  kicked  the  other  in  the 
stomach.  That  kick  had  been  most  surprising,  for  the 
fellow  was  coming  up  behind  Frank,  and  looked  for 
nothing  of  the  sort.  It  doubled  him  up  gasping,  and 
while  he  gasped,  Merriwell  went  in  to  polish  off  the 
other  chap.  He  found  that  fellow  easy  beside  Buster 
Bill,  and  he  took  pains  to  swing  accurately  without 
chancing  it.  The  blow  was  perfect,  and  the  fourth 
thug  went  down  and  out. 

This  left  but  one  man  on  his  pins,  and  he  was  just 
recovering  his  breath,  which  had  been  knocked  out  of 
him  by  that  terrible  kick.  He  straightened  up  as 
Frank  turned  on  him.  Then  he  saw  four  dark  forms 
on  the  ground,  and  his  desire  was  to  be  a  long  dis- 
tance away  from  that  vicinity. 


302       His  Foes  ' 'Scattered  Around." 

But  he  knew  his  wind  would  not  let  him  run  fast, 
and  so  he  was  compelled  to  stand  up  and  take  his 
medicine  like  the  others.  He  put  up  his  guard  and 
ducked  Merry's  first  blow.  In  following  the  fellow  up, 
Frank  caught  his  toe  over  the  prostrate  body  of  one  of 
the  men  on  the  ground,  and  went  down  to  his  knees. 

Uttering  a  snarl  of  joy,  the  last  thug  sprang  in. 
This  was  his  chance.  He  would  get  the  best  of  this  re- 
markable college  man  now.  He  would  upset  him, 
jump  on  him  with  both  feet,  half-kill  him!  Then, 
when  the  others  sat  up  and  took  notice  of  things,  he 
would  say:  "Behold,  I  did  it!"  or  words  to  that  ef- 
fect. 

It  was  a  real  pleasant  dream,  but  it  proved  to  be 
nothing  but  a  dream.  He  did  not  even  hit  Merriwell, 
who  dodged,  leaped  up,  closed  in,  and  kicked  him  reel- 
ing. 

It  was  amazing  how  the  Yale  man  could  follow  up 
an  advantage.  As  that  fellow  staggered,  he  went  in  on 
him,  deliberately  selected  the  knock-out  spot,  and  let 
him  have  it. 

That  ended  the  fight,  for  the  fifth  one  of  the  gang 
joined  his  weary  friends  on  the  ground. 

Frank  stood  in  the  midst  of  his  fallen  assailants, 
looking  about. 

Two  men  came  rushing  up  through  the  darkness. 
They  were  Starbright  and  Hodge,  who  had  decided  to 
walk  in  from  the  field,  and  happened  to  be  coming 
along  behind  him.  They  had  heard  the  sounds  of 


His  Foes  "Scattered  Around." 

battle  as  they  approached,  and  fancying  Frank  might 
be  in  it,  rushed  forward  to  offer  assistance. 

"Merry,"  cried  Bart,  "is  that  you?" 

"Yes,"  said  Frank,  in  a  calm,  undisturbed  tone,  "I 
think  it  is." 

"You — you've  been  attacked?"  palpitated  the  giant 
freshman,  who  accompanied  Hodge. 

"Something  of  the  kind  happened,"  admitted  Merry. 

"Your  assailants — where  are  they?"  demanded 
Hodge. 

"You'll  find  them  scattered  around  here,"  answered 
Frank,  as,  with  one  hand  in  his  pocket,  he  made  a 
gentle,  sweeping  gesture  with  the  other. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

BEFORE   THE   RACE. 

The  day  of  the  spring  regatta  at  Lake  Whitney  ar- 
rived at  last,  and  a  perfect  day  it  was — mild,  sunny, 
balmy,  and  sweet.  It  seems  that  the  sun,  by  some  per- 
ennial contract,  always  shines  on  this  day  of  days  at 
New  Haven.  The  trees  were  putting  out  their  bright 
green  leaves,  and  there  was  an  odor  of  sweetness,  like 
the  breath  of  spring,  in  the  air. 

The  lake  was  almost  as  smooth  as  a  mirror.  Near 
the  shores  there  were  no  ripples.  Out  in  the  middle 
of  the  lake  a  tiny  breeze  stirred  the  water  and  made 
it  take  on  a  deeper  blue. 

A  vast  crowd  had  gathered  and  lined  the  shore  of 
the  lake  to  witness  this  contest  between  picked  crews 
from  the  four  classes.  Men  were  there — men  of  all 
ages — fathers,  brothers,  and  sons. 

But  pause  a  moment  to  observe  the  pretty  girls! 
Don't  you  know  that  New  Haven  on  any  kind  of  a 
fete  day  seems  to  be  the  Mecca  of  pretty  girls?  One 
finds  himself  wondering  where  they  all  come  from.  It 
seems  that  some  one  with  an  eye  to  artistic  beauty  of 
varying  styles  must  have  traveled  over  the  country, 
gathering  up  all  the  pretty  girls  to  be  found,  and  then 
rushed  them  on  to  New  Haven. 


Before  the  Race.  305 

The  dresses  of  the  ladies  made  the  crowd  lively 
with  touches  of  color.  Of  course,  they  were  disport- 
ing the  colors  of  the  various  classes. 

Yale  men  could  be  told  from  visitors  and  townies. 
They  were  discussing  the  probable  result  of  the  race. 
The  Chickering  set  had  found  a  comfortable  and 
sightly  spot,  and  there  they  were  gathered  in  a  body, 
waiting  for  the  excitement  to  begin. 

"Weally,  felloth,"  said  Lew  Veazie,  removing  the 
head  of  his  cane  from  his  mouth  in  order  to  speak, 
"I  believe  the  juniorth  will  win  thith  wace." 

"I  hope  so,"  said  Chickering,  "though  I  shall  feel 
sorry  for  Merriwell,  who  has  put  so  much  hard  work 
upon  the  freshmen.  It  will  be  a  great  disappointment 
for  him." 

"That's  right !"  nodded  Gene  Skelding,  with  a  harsh 
laugh,  having  thrust  back  his  cap  to  permit  the  sun  to 
fall  fairly  on  his  beautiful  brow.  "It's  going  to  be  a 
jolt  for  Merriwell,  but  I  have  it  straight,  the  fresh- 
men can't  win." 

"I'm  afraid  I  don't  understand  why  not,"  said 
Ollie  Lord,  lighting  a  fresh  cigarette. 

"Why,  because  it  is  written  on  the  Book  of  Fate  that 
they  are  not  to  win,"  said  Tilton  Hull,  looking  sol- 
emnly over  his  high  collar,  as  a  boy  might  peer  over  a 
Whitewashed  board  fence. 

"But  that  doesn't  explain  it  to  me.  Does  it  to  you, 
chummie?"  asked  Ollie,  turning  to  Lew. 

"Hawdly,"  confessed    Veazie.      "There    mutht  be 


306  Before  the  Race. 

thomething  going  on  that  we  don't  know  anything 
about" 

"I  only  received  a  hint  of  it/'  said  Hull,  lowering  his 
voice  to  a  whisper,  which  he  seemed  to  shoot  upward 
into  the  air,  his  collar  held  his  chin  so  high.  "We're 
willing  to  let  the  freshies  and  the  sophs  fight  it  out. 
We  have  done  nothing." 

"And  if  the  sophs  choose  to  steal  one  of  the  fresh- 
man crew,  why,  that  is  none  of  our  business,"  said 
Skelding. 

"But  it  is  not  honorable !"  exclaimed  Rupert,  with  an 
expression  of  horror. 

"Don't  let  that  jar  you,"  said  Gene.  "The  sophs 
may  do  the  stealing,  while  we'll  do  the  winning,  and1 
Merriwell  will  get  left  all  round." 

"That  ith  all  I  care  for,"  nodded  Veazie.  "Oh,  I 
hate  that  fellow!  I'd  like  to  give  him  a  weal  hard 
hit  with  the  heavy  end  of  my  cane !" 

Not  a  great  distance  from  the  Chickering  crowd 
were  gathered  Hodge,  Mason,  Hooker,  Browning,  and 
Carker.  Hodge  was  looking  strangely  worried, 
though  he  had  nothing  to  say. 

"A  glorious  day,  gentlemen,"  said  Mason.  "Why, 
it's  like  a  day  in  the  South;  yes,  sah.  A  perfect  day 
for  such  a  race." 

"But  I've  got  an  idea  something  is  going  wrong," 
put  in  Carker.  "I  don't  know  why  I  feel  that  way, 
but  I  can't  help  it." 

"Oh,  say!"  grunted  Browning;  "do  you  ever  feel 


Before  the  Race.  307 

any  other  way  ?  Why  don't  you  try  to  be  cheerful  and 
hopeful  one  day,  just  for  a  change?" 

"There  is  too  much  careless  cheerfulness  and  hope- 
less hopefulness  in  this  world,"  sighed  Greg.  "I  tell 
you  we  are  rushing  into  grave  and  terrible  dangers, 
yet  sober-minded  men  of  to-day  scarcely  ever  pause 
to  scan  the  black  storm-cloud  that  is  gathering.  Some 
day  it  will  burst  in  all  its  fury." 

"It's  a  thunder-storm  this  time!"  grumbled  Bruce. 
"Well,  at  least  that  is  a  relief  from  your  tiresome  old 
earthquake,  Cark." 

"You  are  like  all  the  others,"  sighed  Greg.  "Some 
day  you  may  awaken  to  the  truth,  but  I  fear  it  will 
then  be  too  late.  The  storm  will  have  burst.  It  is 
coming  with  the  swiftness  of " 

"Oh,  for  Heaven's  sake,  shut  up!"  growled  Hodge, 
who  was  watching  the  starting-point  with  an  expres- 
sion of  anxiety  on  his  face.  "This  is  a  time  to  think 
of  something  else.  I  swear  I  believe  there  is  some- 
thing the  matter !" 

Berlin  Carson  came  rushing  up. 

"Hello,  fellows !"  he  panted.     "Where  is  Merry?" 

They  did  not  know. 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Hodge.  "Has  any- 
thing happened?" 

"Sh!"  cautioned  Carson.     "The  sophs  have  stolen 
the  freshman  coxswain." 
"Knight?" 
"Yes." 


308  Before  the  Race. 

"The  dickens!    What  will  the  freshmen  do?" 

"They  are  in  a  mess,  and  they  want  advice  from 
Merriwell.  That's  why  I've  been  out  looking  for  him. 
But  it's  no  use  to  look  farther." 

"Not  a  bit." 

"It's  time  for  the  race  to  start  now." 

"Past  time." 

"Well,  we'll  have  to  let  the  freshies  go  it  the  best 
they  can.  I  guess  the  sophs  have  got  them,  all  right. 
It's  too  bad,  after  Merry  has  given  them  so  much  of 
his  time." 

"This  business  has  been  hanging  fire  right  along/* 
said  Bart.  "I  knew  there  were  some  men  who  meant 
that  the  freshmen  should  not  win,  anyhow.  I  think 
Merriwell  knew  it,  too,  and  I'm  sorry  he  should  let 
those  chaps  get  ahead  of  him.  They'll  have  it  to  crow 
over  for  a  month." 

Carson  sat  down. 

"It'll  be  the  first  time  Frank  has  been  tripped  up," 
he  said. 

If  any  one  of  them  had  turned  about  and  looked 
behind  them  at  this  moment  he  might  have  seen  twc 
fellows  who  disappeared  into  a  thick  mass  of  shrub- 
bery, amid  which  they  met. 

"The  trick  is  done,"  said  one.  "That's  why  there 
is  a  delay  about  the  start.  Give  me  the  notes  you 
hold  against  me,  Snodgrass." 

"Wait  a  little,  Arnold,"  said  Ben  Snodgrass.     "I've 


Before  the  Race.  309 

ceased  paying  in  advance  since  I  forked  over  twenty- 
five  plunks  to  Buster  Bill,  and  he  failed  to  carry  out 
his  part  of  the  bargain." 

"He  did  the  best  he  could.     It  wasn't  his  fault." 

"Yes,  it  was." 

"How?" 

"I  warned  him  what  Merriwell  was,  but  he  sneered 
at  college  athletes." 

"And  Merriwell  literally  whipped  him  and  his  whole 
gang." 

"That's  what  Starbright  reported.  Said  he  had  five 
of  them  laid  out  at  once." 

"Well,  Merriwell  will  meet  defeat,  after  all,  for  Earl 
Knight  is  ten  miles  from  here  at  this  minute,  safely 
held  under  lock  and  key  till  the  race  is  over.  I  know 
that,  Snodgrass;  so  you  may  as  well  fork  over  the 
paper." 

"You'll  get  the  paper,  all  right,  after  the  race." 

"If  the  freshmen  win,  it's  not  my  fault.  I've  car- 
ried out  my  part  of  the  agreement  by  leading  Knight 
into  the  trap." 

"If  the  freshmen  win  without  Knight,  you'll  get 
your  money;  but  they  can't  do  it,  for  there  isn't  an- 
other man  who  can  take  Knight's  place  and  fill  it  as 
he  did.  People  got  over  sneering  at  Knight  as  a 
coxswain.  He  was  the  great  man  of  the  crew,  for, 
somehow,  he  put  spirit  and  life  and  confidence  in 
them." 

"And  he  could  steer." 


Before  the  Race. 

"He  was  an  expert.  Oh,  yes,  you'll  get  your  paper 
after  the  race !  What's  that  ?  Listen !" 

A  shout  came  from  the  shore. 

"The  race  has  begun!"  exclaimed  Arnold. 

Snodgrass  did  not  pause  to  say  a  word,  but  made  r 
break  for  the  shore. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

VICTORY   OF   THE   STROKE. 

The  race  was  on!  Down  the  lake  they  came,  the 
freshmen  and  sophomores  neck  and  neck.  The  great 
crowd  shouted  and  cheered.  Colors  waved  every- 
where. 

It  was  a  beautiful  sight  to  see  those  rival  crews, 
their  broad  backs  bending  in  perfect  unison,  their 
strong  arms  extended  and  drawn  back  with  the  mus- 
cular heave  that  was  regular  as  clockwork.  The  drip- 
ping oar-blades  flashed  in  the  sunshine. 

Who  is  the  coxswain  in  the  freshman  boat  ?  Every- 
body is  anxious  to  know.  It's  not  a  little  fellow. 
Why,  it's  a  man  as  large  as  Knight !  Look  closer !" 

"Great  mavericks!"  muttered  Berlin  Carson.  "Am 
I  dreaming  ?  Why,  that  is " 

"I  thought  you  said  Knight  had  disappeared !"  rum- 
bled Browning.  "Who  gave  you  that  fairy-story  ?" 

"That  is  Knight  in  the  stern  of  the  freshman  boat, 
sah,"  put  in  Hock  Mason. 

Of  course  it  was  Knight !  There  could  be  no  mis- 
taking that  terrible  scar  down  his  left  cheek,  which 
was  plainly  visible  through  their  glasses. 

"Well,  it's  hard  work  to  get  ahead  of  Frank  Merri- 
well !"  chuckled  Berlin  Carson.  "He  must  have  found 
a  way  to  trace  Knight  and  rescue  him.  The  freshmen 
will  win !" 


312  Victory  of  the  Stroke. 

"It  looks  that  way,"  admitted  Carker;  "but  in  times 
of  greatest  prosperity  have  come  upon  us  our  greatest 
calamities." 

They  felt  like  punching  him,  but  of  a  sudden  their 
attention  was  wholly  given  to  the  race.  Surely  some- 
thing was  wrong!  See!  the  freshman  stroke  reels  ir. 
his  seat!  It  is  Starbright!  Something  has  fallen  to 
the  bottom  of  the  shell — something  that  sounds  suspi- 
ciously like  a  stone. 

Then  the  sophomores  begin  to  forge  ahead. 

The  consternation  in  the  freshman  boat  has  spread 
to  the  shore.  The  race  is  ruined.  Something  had 
knocked  the  stroke-oar  out,  and  that  settles  it. 

But  look  again !  A  strange  thing  is  happening.  The 
coxswain,  with  amazing  skill,  grasps  the  senseless 
stroke  and  swings  him  aft,  taking  his  place  and  his 
oar. 

As  he  seized  the  oar  the  new  stroke  cries : 

"Pull!" 

Never  before  on  Lake  Whitney  had  such  a  remark- 
able thing  happened.  The  freshmen  quickly  recover, 
and  their  oars  rise  and  fall.  With  tremendous  energy 
they  almost  fling  the  boat  out  of  the  water. 

The  race  is  near  the  end.  There  can  be  no  hope  for 
the  unfortunate  freshmen,  who  now  have  no  coxswain, 
save  a  senseless  man. 

The  great  crowd  of  spectators  thrill  with  wildest 
excitement.  The  new  stroke  has  given  that  crew  such 
life  as  they  had  not  exhibited  before  at  any  stage  of 


Victory  of  the  Stroke.  3  1  3 

the  race.  They  forge  ahead,  recovering  the  lost  dis- 
tance with  remarkable  speed. 

In  a  moment  they  will  be  neck  and  neck  again.  Is 
it  possible  that  the  race  will  be  a  draw  ? 

Now  they  are  together,  and  the  spectators  are  cheer- 
ing wildly,  while  hats,  handkerchiefs,  and  flags  wave 
everywhere. 

And  then,  despite  everything  the  sophomores  can 
do,  the  boat  of  the  freshmen  forges  slowly  into  the 
lead. 

Over  the  line  they  go,  with  the  nose  of  the  fresh- 
man boat  one  foot  in  advance,  and  the  race  is  won  — 
the  most  remarkable  race  ever  witnessed  on  Lake 
Whitney. 


There  were  ugly  rumors  about  that  stone.  Of 
course,  somebody  threw  it,  and,  of  course,  the  object 
had  been  to  knock  out  Starbright  and  give  the  race 
to  the  sophomores.  But  for  the  remarkable  work  of 
the  coxswain,  this  dastardly  trick  would  have  re- 
sulted in  the  defeat  of  the  freshmen. 

The  name  of  the  coxswain  was  on  every  lip.  Earl 
Knight  had  become  famous  for  his  wonderful  action. 
He  had  saved  the  race  —  a  fact  which  no  man  disputed. 

Of  course,  Merriwell's  friends  were  well  satisfied 
with  the  termination  of  this  exciting  contest,  while  his 
enemies  were  equally  depressed. 

But  his  friends  were  vowing  they  would  find  out 
who  had  thrown  that  stone. 


314  Victory  of  the  Stroke. 

"It  was  a  dastardly  piece  of  business !"  declared  Bart 
Hodge  hotly.  "The  fellow  ought  to  be  hanged!" 

"I  think  it  would  be  a  very  good  thing  to  give  him 
a  coat  of  tar  and  feathers,"  grunted  Browning,  who 
was  not  a  little  aroused  himself. 

"Some  one  must  have  seen  him  do  it,"  said  Mason. 
"It's  our  duty  to  find  out  who  it  was." 

So  they  set  out  to  investigate,  but  everybody  seemed 
too  excited  to  really  know  anything  about  it.  Some 
declared  no  stone  had  been  thrown,  but  that  Star- 
bright  had  fainted  in  the  boat.  Starbright's  friends, 
however,  knew  better  than  that. 

The  Chickering  set  was  disgusted.  The  result  had 
added  another  laurel  to  the  cap  of  Frank  Merriwell, 
they  thought,  and  they  felt  very  bad  about  it.  They 
were  among  those  who  declared  no  stone  had  been 
thrown. 

Perhaps  the  most  disgusted  man  was  Ben  Snod- 
grass,  who  had  found  a  spot  on  a  high  piece  of  land, 
not  far  from  the  finishing-point.  When  the  race  was 
over  he  vanished  from  that  spot,  and  he  hoped  that  no 
one  had  seen  him  there. 

He  encountered  Arnold,  who  was  looking  miserable 
enough.  Snodgrass  was  furious. 

"Oh,  you're  a  dandy!"  he  grated.  "You  did  a  nice 
piece  of  business,  didn't  you  ?  I  thought  Earl  Knight 
was  ten  miles  away  when  the  race  began,  safely  held 
inder  lock  and  key !" 

"So  did  I,"  muttered  Orson  huskily. 

"To-morrow  you  pay  those  notes,  or  they  go  to  your 


Victory  of  the  Stroke.  315 

grandmother  for  collection !"  snarled  Snodgrass,  as  he 
shook  them  at  Arnold,  having  taken  them  from  his 
pockets. 

Arnold  was  white  as  a  sheet.  With  his  teeth 
clenched,  he  leaped  on  Snodgrass,  struck  him  down, 
snatched  the  notes  from  his  hand,  and  tore  them  up.. 
Then  he  took  to  his  heels,  while  the  baffled  plotter 
arose,  shaking  with  the  rage  of  defeat  and  shame. 

But  at  the  boat-house  a  strange  thingwas  happening.. 
The  coxswain  who  had  steered  and  rowed  the  fresh- 
man boat  to  victory  was  bending  over  Dick  Starbright,. 
whom  he  was  seeking  to  restore  to  consciousness.  His 
face  was  beaded  with  perspiration,  and  down  his  left 
cheek  from  that  remarkable  scar  ran  streaks  of  blue. 

Starbright  opened  his  eyes  and  saw  the  other  bend- 
ing over  him. 

"How  are  you,  Dick  ?"  asked  the  coxswain. 

"You,  Frank?"  gasped  the  big  stroke,  in  amaze- 
ment. "Why,  what — what  does  it  mean?" 

Then  there  was  great  excitement  in  the  boat-house, 
for  the  coxswain,  whom  no  man  observed  closely  in 
the  rush  at  getting  started,  was  none  other  than  Frank 
Merriwell,  who  had  made  a  grease-paint  scar  down  his 
left  cheek  and  taken  the  place  of  Knight. 

But  the  race  was  won,  and  Merriwell  remained  in- 
vincible. 

THE  END. 


"BEST  OF  ALL  BOYS'  BOOKS 


THE  FAMOUS 

Frank  Merriwell  Stories 

By  BURT  L.  STANDISH 

No  modern  series  of  tales  for  boys  and  youths  has 
met  with  anything  like  the  cordial  reception  and  popu- 
larity accorded  to  the  Frank  Merriwell  Stories. 

There  must  be  a  reason  for  this  and  there  is.  Frank 
Merriwell,  as  portrayed  by  the  author,  is  a  jolly,  whole- 
souled,  honest,  courageous  American  lad,  who  appeals 
to  the  hearts  of  the  boys.  He  has  no  bad  habits,  and 
his  manliness  inculcates  the  idea  that  it  is  not  necessary 
x>r  a  boy  to  indulge  in  petty  vices  to  be  a  hero.  Frank 
Merriwell's  example  is  a  shining  light  for  every  ambitious 
lad  to  follow. 

Twenty-four  volumes  ready 

Frank  Merriwell's  School  Days  Frank  Merriwell's  Skill 

Frank  Merriwell's  Chums  Frank  Merriwell's  Champions 

Frank  Merriwell's  Foes  Frank  Merriwell's  Return  to  Yale 

Frank  Merriwell's  Trip  West  Frank  Merriwell's  Secret 

Frank  Merriwell  Down  South  Frank  Merriwell's  Loyalty 

Frank  Merriwell's  Bravery  Frank  Merriwell's  Reward 

Frank  Merriwell's  Races  Frank  Merriwell's  Faith 
Frank  Merriwell's  Hunting  Tour  Frank  Merriwell's  Victories 

Frank  Merriwell's  Sports  Afield  Frank  Merriwell's  Power 

Frank  Merriwell  at  Yale  Frank  Memwell's  Set-Back 

Frank  Merfiwell's  Courage  Frank  Merriwell's  False  Friend 

Frank  Memwell's  Daring  Frank  Merriwell's  Brother 

Illustrated,  cloth  binding,  5O  cents  per  volume 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  price 
Dy  the  publisher 

DAVID  McKAY,  Philadelphia 

(i) 


THE  MOTOR  POWER  SERIES 

yyyy^  »»»»>»»»>>»»»>»>,, >T»»»yt>»»TTfT»f,»»>>yfT>>y>yff>i-». 

Donald  Grayson's  Famous 
Motor  Stories  for  Boys  *# 

Mr.  Grayson  is  an  accomplished  writer  of  up-to-the- 
minute  juvenile  stories  which  are  eagerly  read  by 
modern  American  lads. 

In  his  new  series,  his  characters  have  exciting  adven- 
tures  with  every  kind  of  motor-driven  machines — motor 
cycles,  automobiles,  aeroplanes  and  submarines. 

You  may  readily  see  what  a  vast  field  for  adventures 
Mr.  Grayson  has  chosen. 

Now  Ready 

BOB  STEELE'S  MOTOR  CYCLE 

BOB  STEELE  ON  HIGH  GEAR 

BOB  STEELE  FROM  AUTO  TO  AIRSHIP 

BOB  STEELE  AFLOAT  IN  THE  CLOUDS 

BOB  STEELE'S  SUBMARINE  CRUISE 

BOB  STEELE  IN  STRANGE  WATERS 

BOB  STEELE'S  MOTOR  BOAT 

BOB  STEELE'S  WINNING  RACE 

BOB  STEELE'S  NEW  AEROPLANE 

BOB  STEELE'S  LAST  FLIGHT 

;        Illustrated,  cloth  binding,  5O  cents  per  volume 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  price 
by  the  publisher 

DAVID  McKAY,  Philadelphia 

(2) 


BOYS  OF  LIBERTY  LIBRARY 

NEW  SERIES  of  splendid  tales  of  the  wonderful  and 
stirring  adventures  of  boys  who  fought  in  The  Revolu- 
tionary War,  The  French  and  Indian  Wars,  and  Naval 
Battles  of  1812. 

The  stories  are  written  in  an  intensely  interesting  style,  and  no 
boy  can  read  them  without  being  aroused  to  the  highest  pitch  of 
patriotic  enthusiasm. 

We  give  herewith  a  list  of  titles  now  ready.  Read  the  first  and 
you  will  want  to  read  all  the  others.  I2mo.  Cloth,  handsomely 
bound. 

PAUL  REVERE.    By  John  De  Morgan. 

THE  FIRST  SHOT  FOR  LIBERTY.     By  John  De  Morgan. 

FOOLING  THE  ENEMY.     By  John  De  Morgan. 

INTO  THE  JAWS  OF  DEATH.    By  John  De  Morgan. 

THE  HERO  OF  TICONDEROGA.     By  John  De  Morgaa. 

ON  TO  QUEBEC.    By  John  De  Morgan. 

FIGHTING  HAL.    By  John  De  Morgan. 

MARION  AND  HIS  MEN.    By  John  De  Morgan. 

THE  YOUNG  AMBASSADOR.     By  John  De  Morgan. 

THE  YOUNG  GUARDSMAN.    By  John  De  Morgan. 

THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  LIVELY  BEE.    By  John  De  Morgan. 

THE  TORY  PLOT.    By  T.  C.  Harbaugh. 

IN  BUFF  AND  BLUE.     By  T.  C.  Harbaugh. 

WASHINGTON'S  YOUNG  SPY.    By  T.  C.  Harbaugh. 

UNDER  GREENE'S  BANNER.     By  T.  C.  Harbaugh 

FOR  FREEDOM'S  CAUSE.    By  T.  C.  Harbaugh. 

CAPTAIN  OF  THE  MINUTE  MEN.    By  Harrie  Irving  Hancock. 

THE  QUAKER  SPY.    By  Lieut.  Lounsberry. 

FIGHTING  FOR  FREEDOM.    By  Lieut.  Lounaberry. 

BY  ORDER  OF  THE  COLONEL.    By  Lieut.  Louo»b«rrjr. 

A  CALL  TO  DUTY.    By  Lieut.  Lounsberry. 

IN  GLORY'S  VAN.    By  Lieut.  Lounsberry. 

THE  TRADER'S  CAPTIVE.    By  Lieut.  Loua«b«rry. 

THE  YOUNG  PATRIOT.    By  Lieut.  Lounsberry. 

"  OLD  PUT  "  THE  PATRIOT.    By  Frederick  A.  Ober. 

THE  LEAGUE  OF  FIVE.    By  Commander  Post. 

THE  KING'S  MESSENGER.    By  Capt.  Frank  Ralph. 

DASHING  PAUL  JONES.    By  Frank  Sheridan. 

FROM  MIDSHIPMAN  TO  COMMODORE.    By  Frank  Sheridan. 

THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  ESSEX.    By  Frank  Sheridan. 

LAND  HERO  OF  i8«.    By  C.  C.  Hotchkisa. 

FOLLOWING  MAD  ANTHONY.    By  T.  C.  Harbaogh. 

THE  YOUNG  CAPTAINS.    By  T.  C.  Harbaugh. 

CAMPAIGNING  WITH  BRADDOCK.    By  William  Murray  Graydoc. 

Price,  5O  cents  per  volume 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  price 
by  the  publisher 

DAVID  McKAY,  Philadelphia 

(3) 


THE  ROB  RANGER  SERIES 

By  LIEUT.  LIONEL  LOUNSBERRY 

A  capital  series  showing  what  can  be  accomplished  by  a  boy  of  ability  and  courage. 
Rob  it  a  hero  whose  example  of  courage,  honesty  and  manliness  can  be  followed  with 
profit.  Rob's  horse,  Silent  Sam,  and  his  dog  Trumps,  play  an  important  part  in  the 
series,  and  cannot  fail  to  win  admiration  and  affection.  No  better  stories  for  bright 
healthy  boys  could  well  be  imagined. 

ROB   RANGER'S   MINE,  or  THE  BOY  WHO   GOT  THERE.     By  Lieut. 

Lionel  Lounsberry. 
ROB  RANGER   THE  YOUNG   RANCHMAN,  or  GOING  IT  ALONE   AT 

LOST  RIVER.    By  Lieut.  Lionel  Lounsberry. 
ROB  RANGER'S  COWBOY  DAYS,  or  THE  YOUNG  HUNTER  OF  THE 

BIG  HORN.    By  Lieut.  Lionel  Lounaberry. 

Price,  5O  cents  per  volume 

THE  CIRCUS  SERIES 

BY 

STANLEY  MORRIS  VICTOR  ST.  CLAIR 

Wh«re  is  there  a  boy  who  does  not  love  a  circus  and  who  does  not  also  love  to  take 
a  peep  "  behind  the  scenes  "  of  the  great  white  canvas  ?  There  are  adventures  galore, 
enough  to  satisfy  any  healthy  youngster. 

PHIL    THE    SHOWMAN,    or    LIFE    IN    THE    SAWDUST    RING.      By 

Stanley  Norris. 
YOUNG  SHOWMAN'S  RIVALS,  or  UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  THE  ROAD. 

By  Stanley  Norris. 
YOUNG  SHOWMAN'S    PLUCK,   or  AN   UNKNOWN    RIDER   IN   THE 

RING.     By  Stanley  Norris. 
YOUNG  SHOWMAN'S  TRIUMPH,  or  A  GRAND  TOUR  ON  THE  ROAD. 

By  Stanley  Norris. 
ZIG-ZAG,  THE   BOY  CONJURER,  or  LIFE  ON  AND  OFF  THE  STAGE. 

By  Victor  St.  Clair. 
ZIP,  THE  ACROBAT,  or  THE  OLD  SHOWMAN'S  SECRET.    By  Victor 

St.  Clair.  .  , 

Price,  5O  cents  per  volume 

THE  MATTHEW  WHITE  SERIES 

These  books  are  full  of  good,  clean  adventure,  thrilling  enough  to  please  th«  full- 
blooded  wide-awake  boy,  ye«  containing  nothing  to  which  there  can  be  any  objection 
from  those  who  are  careful  as  to  the  kind  of  books  they  put  into  the  hands  of  the  young. 

ADVENTURES  OF  A  YOUNG  ATHLETE.— A  story  of  how  a.  boy  saved  his 

father's  name  and  fortune. 

ERIC  DANE. — Interesting  experiences  of  a  boy  of  means. 
GUY  HAMMERSLEY. — How  an  energetic  boy  cleared  his  name. 
MY  MYSTERIOUS   FORTUNE.— An   extremely  interesting  story  of  a  $«oo,ooo 

check. 
THE  TOUR  OF  A  PRIVATE  CAR. — Interesting  experiences  of  a  young  private 

secretary. 
THE  YOUNG  EDITOR. — Experiences  of  a  bright  boy  editing  a  weekly  paper. 

Price,  5O  cents  per  volume 

For  tale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  price  by  the  publisher 

DAVID  McKAY,  Philadelphia 

(4) 


The  Famous  Adventure  Series 

An  ideal  series  of  books  for  boys  of  all  ages.  The  stories 
are  of  the  bright  and  sparkling  kind,  full  of  adventures  on 
land  and  sea  and  not  over-burdened  with  lengthy  descriptions  ; 
in  fact,  just  the  sort  that  must  appeal  to  every  healthy  boy 
who  is  fond  of  thrilling  exploits  and  deeds  of  heroism. 

The  names  of  the  authors  give  sufficient  guarantee  to  their 
merits.  Among  these  may  be  mentioned  Henry  Harrison 
Lewis,  who  is  a  graduate  of  the  Naval  Academy  at  Annapolis, 
and  has  written  a  great  many  books  for  boys. 

A  VOYAGE  TO  THE  GOLD  COAST.    By  Frank 
H.  Converse. 

An  adventurous  trip  of  New  England  boys  to  Africa. 

CAMP  IN  THE  SNOW.    By  Wm.  Murray  Graydon. 

Boys'  winter  camp  life  in  northern  New  England. 

CENTREBOARD  JIM.     By  Henry  Harrison  Lewis. 

The  secret  of  Sargasso  Sea. 

FROM  LAKE  TO  WILDERNESS.    By  Wm.  Murray 
Graydon. 

Adventures  around  the  northern  lakes. 

HOW  HE  WON.    By  Brooks  McCormick. 

Triumphs  of  a  plucky  boy  afloat  and  ashore. 

IN   SEARCH    OF   AN    UNKNOWN    RACE.     By 

Frank  H.  Converse. 

A  thrilling  story  of  exploration  in  Brazil. 

KING  OF  THE  ISLAND.    By  Henry  Harrison  Lewis. 

Strange  adventures  on  a  South  Sea  Island. 

TOM  HAVEN  WITH  THE  WHITE  SQUADRON, 
By  Lieut.  James  K.  Orion. 

The  adventures  of  a  young  inventor  of     submarine  boat. 

Illustrated,  cloth  binding:,  5O  cents  per  volume 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  price 
by  the  publisher 

DAVID  McKAY,  Philadelphia 

(5) 


THE  ANNAPOLIS  SERIES 

By  ENSIGN  CLARICE  FITCH,  U.  S.  N. 

A  graduate  of  the  U.  S.  Naval  Academy  at  Annapolis,  and 
thoroughly  familiar  with  all  naval  matters  Mr.  Fitch  has 
devoted  himself  to  literature,  and  has  written  a  series  of 
books  for  boys  that  every  young  American  should  read.  His 
stories  are  full  of  interesting  information  about  the  navy, 
training  ships,  etc. 

BOUND  FOR  ANNAPOLIS,  or  The  Trials  of  a  Sailor  Boy. 
CLIP,  THE  NAVAL  CADET,  or  Exciting  Days  at  Annapolis. 

THE  CRUISE  OF  THE  TRAINING  SHIP,  or  Clif  Faraday's 
Pluck. 

FROM  PORT  TO  PORT,  or  Clif  Faraday  in  Many  Waters. 
A  STRANGE  CRUISE,  or  Clif  Faraday's  Yacht  Chase. 

Illustrated,  cloth  binding,  75  cents  per  volume 

THE  WEST  POINT  SERIES 

By  LIEUT.  FREDERICK  GARRISON,  U.  S.  A. 

Every  American  boy  takes  a  keen  interest  in  the  affairs  of 
West  Point.  No  more  capable  writer  on  this  popular  subject 
could  be  found  than  Lieut.  Garrison,  who  vividly  describes 
the  life,  adventures  and  unique  incidents  that  have  occurred 
in  that  great  institution — in  these  famous  West  Point  stories. 

OFF  FOR  WEST  POINT,  or  Mark  Mallory's  Struggle. 
A  CADET'S  HONOR,  or  Mark  Mallory's  Heroism. 
ON  GUARD,  or  Mark  Mallory's  Celebration. 

THE  WEST  POINT  TREASURE,  or  Mark  Mallory's  Strange 
Find. 

THE  WEST  POINT  RIVALS,  or  Mark  Mallory's  Strategem. 
Illustrated,  cloth  binding:,  75  cents  per  volume 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  price 
by  the  publisher 

DAVID  McKAY,  Philadelphia 

(6) 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


MOV  u  2  1990 


2  WKS  FROM  DATE  R 


0  6 


;CE1VED 


-RENEWABLE 


DUE  2  WKS  FROM  DATE 


SEP  1  7  1991 


DECEIVED 


A     000  034  440     8 


Ui 


